Embracing His True Self
by DebsTheSlytherinSnapefan
Summary: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter Slash. What if Harry didn't want to fight Voldemort? What if he was fed up with the light side judging him constantly and wants to be his true self? The Slytherin side that he had squashed in a bid to fit in and be accepted? Realizing he never would...what of the prophecy? Could they overcome it? Will Voldemort even give him a chance?
1. Chapter 1

**Embracing His True Self **

**Chapter 1 **

**I know I know you must want to kill me - I want to kill myself, I have too many stories as it is without adding more. Yet the muse will not leave me alone, so I am choosing to post it I hope you enjoy it though. **

**The Dark Lord **

* * *

"My Lord…" Pettigrew choked, "my Lord…you promised…you did promise."

"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily, his red eyes piercing as he looked around keeping an eye on the boy, he did have a knack for escaping. If he wasn't his enemy he would have had a grudging respect, but since his escapes put his plans to ruins he wasn't happy the slightest.

"Oh, Master…thank you, master…" choked Pettigrew getting dizzy from the loss of blood. He extended his handless arm towards Voldemort, who just laughed coldly, concealing his surprise that Potter was suppressing his own sadistic amusement at Pettigrew's current predicament. "The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please…please…" whimpered Pettigrew piteously, missing the green eyes of his bound prisoner watching him in great delight that he couldn't quite mask.

Voldemort snatched Wormtail's left arm Harry noticed, and forced his sleeve up ignoring the snivelling. He noticed immediately a red tattoo the same one he'd seen at the Quidditch World cup. It was pretty hard to forget since he'd been accused of firing it into the sky, it seemed no matter where he went, what he did he always had people blaming him for something.

"It is back," said Voldemort softly, and Harry couldn't help but remember the chamber…his voice back then. What had caused him to become so hideously disfigured? Shaking off his entirely inappropriate thoughts, as he tried to think of a way to get out of this. He was drawing blank…he was tied to a bloody tombstone for Merlin's sake, damn Dumbledore for not stepping in and preventing him from participating in the tournament. "They will all have noticed it…and now, we shall see…now we shall know…" Then Voldemort touched it with his finger, just then his scar seared with pain. What had Voldemort just done? Why could he feel what he'd done? It was different than anything else he'd ever felt in relation to his scar before. The tattoo had done black now, and he watched Pettigrew scream in agony, causing his lips to twitch. Hopefully Voldemort would leave it to long and actually kill the snivelling thing.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered once more, his red eyes gleaming. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

Return? Oh great, he'd somehow summoned his followers, how many did he have? How did he get out of this? His wand was out of reach, Cedric Diggory was dead and no help at all. He had no idea where he was, or how to get back to Hogwarts. In other words he was done for. Maybe it was for the best…when he died he wouldn't need to return to the Dursley's, no more abuse, no more pressure, no more looking at the disappointment on everyone's faces when he didn't do what they expected. No more pretence…no more of putting up with people who pretended to give a shit.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," Voldemort hissed softly, "A Muggle and a fool…very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child…and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proven himself, in death…"

"Too bad they didn't cremate him then," said Harry bluntly watching the red eyes flash with surprise at his guile.

Then Voldemort continued on as if Harry hadn't spoken at all. "You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lied there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was…he didn't like magic, my father…he left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage…but I vowed to find him…I revenged myself upon hum, that fool who gave me his name…Tom Riddle…"

"Oh please, you weren't the only one who's had a shit childhood." said Harry his green eyes flashing in barely suppressed fury. How many times had he wished to kill his own so called family? Each year it got more and more inventive…unfortunately he couldn't. Dumbledore would know within seconds what he'd done.

"Listen to me, reliving family history…" Voldemort said quietly, and did he do anything other than bloody whisper?! "Why, I am growing quite sentimental…But look, Harry! My true family returns…"

"I already know your family history, I got the same talk just before you tried to kill me in the chamber of secrets…so please spare me." said Harry, rolling his eyes shifting his head from side to side, he ached something fierce. True family? His heart sank at the sight of all the wizards Apparating into the Graveyard, yes; this day was truly his last. He thought of them as family? That much he hadn't expected. There was so much he was ignorant of, he wished he had answers.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort said. "Thirteen years…thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it was yesterday…we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"

He was beginning to think Voldemort didn't know how to raise his voice other than to laugh manically. Harry's eyes observed his surroundings, too many Death Eaters, not a hope in hell of getting out of this…hopefully they would end him quickly. He didn't want to count his chickens, after all the last times had been far from pleasant, no attempt at a flash of green light.

"I smell guilt," he whispered, "There is a stench of guilt upon the air."

Really he could smell like a snake? Then he was bound to smell his fear and that didn't sit well with him at all.

"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact - such prompt appearances! And I ask myself…why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their Master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

Eternal loyalty? Really? How had he gained so many followers was the blood supremacy really that…twisted in all pureblood's?

"And I answer myself," Whispered Voldemort, "They must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance and bewitchment."

How did Voldemort know all this? Pettigrew had spent…thirteen years as a rat, listening to the Weasley's. There was also Jorkin's who had died by Voldemort's hand, he would have gotten all information he possibly could. If he found out about the tournament from her then it was probable he had gotten more.

"And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power, in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?"

He had every Death Eater stiller than statues, he had them hanging on to every word and if Harry was honest…he would have been as well if he wasn't about to die. He had a way with words, even at the age of seventeen down in the chamber of secrets. Licking his dry lips, cursing himself once again for letting his mind wander…he had to figure out a way out of here before he was met with a sticky end like Malfoy had claimed when he was twelve. He would hate to prove the git right - especially considering he was there…he could see his blond hair shining like a beacon in the stillness.

"And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still-greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort…perhaps they now pay allegiance of another…perhaps that champion of Mudblood's and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore!"

Harry snorted, unable to help himself that was a new one he'd never heard Dumbledore called that. Fortunately he didn't think anyone heard him since the Death Eaters had flinched and began shaking their head muttering and denying the accusation levelled their way.

"It's a disappointment to me…I confess myself disappointed."

Then what happened next had even Harry fearful and very nearly showing it, the Death Eaters were kneeling before Voldemort begging for forgiveness only to be hit with a spell that must have caused unendurable agony if the screams were anything to go by. Swallowing thickly, the Cruciatus Curse…Moody was right then, it had been a favourite of Voldemort's during the war, his stomach tightened into a knot.

"Get up, Avery," said Voldemort softly, "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years…I want thirteen years of repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail has already paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?"

Harry wondered very briefly why Avery was Avery yet Voldemort called Pettigrew by his nickname…a nickname that his father gave him only to betray him. Was Pettigrew closer to him? Other than the fact he brought him back? He shook of those thoughts feeling sick.

"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?" said Voldemort.

Of course, now that made more sense than Pettigrew actually giving a shit, Sirius and Remus would have been amused to learn that Pettigrew was terrified of them.

"Yes Master," moaned Wormtail, "Please, master…please…"

"Yet you helped return me to my body," said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sobbing on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me…and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…"

Harry grimaced in disgust at the sight before him, Pettigrew was more rat than human…then again Voldemort was more snake than human but he hadn't always been that way…Pettigrew on the other hand had always been that way at least according to Sirius. It could have been bitterness speaking, but either way he was dead…there was no way he could survive this surely? It would take a miracle and he had a feeling he was all out of them. Ignoring the conversation going on around him, yet absorbing the names of those he could for his own sake should he actually get out of this in one piece? Then hearing him speaking again caused him to pay attention…missing Death Eaters?

"And here we have six missing Death Eaters…three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return…he will pay. Two who remain my most faithful servants, one of which has already re-entered my service." whispered Voldemort sounding thoughtful.

"He is at Hogwarts, my faithful servant…and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived tonight…" said Voldemort, "Yes. Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honour."

"I'm sorry to say I left my gift behind," said Harry sardonically, his eyes never wavering from Voldemort's.

"Master, we crave to know…we beg you to tell us…how you have achieved this…this miracle…how you managed to return to us…" simpered Lucius.

Voldemort finally broke eye contact with Harry and turned to Lucius, "Ah what a story it is, Lucius, and it begins and ends with my young friend here." Harry narrowed his eyes as Voldemort stalked forward towards him, inhaling sharply at the pain in his scar, as Voldemort's long white fingers hovered just inches from his skin. "You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?"

"You all know that the night I lost my powers and my body, I had tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him - and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen…I could not touch the boy." said Voldemort, his red eyes gleaming wickedly as he advanced further into Harry's face, if he had a nose it would have been pressed against Harry's. "His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice…this is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it…but no matter I can touch him now."

Harry bit his tongue, keeping his face impassive despite the agony coursing through him. He'd never allowed his uncle to get any satisfaction from it…so he wasn't going to let Voldemort or the Death Eaters. Voldemort had come and actually intended on killing HIM it wasn't his family…why? Its not like he'd gone around killing children otherwise Hogwarts would have been empty…surely? Why him? What the hell made him so special? That Voldemort would come and personally try and kill him? He'd asked Dumbledore once but he'd never revealed why. Voldemort laughed in his ear, before turning away from him again to address the Death Eaters.

"I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon me. Aaahh…pan beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than a spirit, less than the meanest ghost…but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know…I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal - to concur death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked…for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done I. nevertheless, I was powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself…for I had no body and every spell which might have helped me required the use of a wand. I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist…I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited…surely one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me…one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body…but I waited in vain…"

"Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Auror's were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals - snakes, of course, being my preference - but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill-adapted to perform magic…and my possession of them shorted their lives; none of them lasted long…"

Auror's? The Auror's had searched for Voldemort? So they'd known all along that he wasn't really dead? Dumbledore was one thing but the Auror the Ministry…he could barely believe it, those sodding shits, were they manipulating him as well as Dumbledore?

"Then…four years ago…the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard - young, foolish and gullible - wandered across my path in the forest I made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had dreamed of…for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school…he was easy to bend to my will…he brought me back into this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plans failed. I did not manage to steal the Philosopher's stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted…thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter…"

"If it's any consolation you wouldn't have been able to get the stone," muttered Harry mulishly.

* * *

This is going to be my first attempt at Tom Riddle/Harry Potter Slash and it will obviously be different starting from the end of the tournament :P will harry convince Tom to take the Horcruxes back in and regain his sainty? go back to his original goals instead of trying to kill him? or will he fire of the killing curse and Harry still survive leading him to think Harry holds the key to immortality? or will Harry get away like he usually does and have Voldemort become curious? will he kill the Dursley's? :D horrid painful deaths or quick but messy? :P can you even imagine Harry being dark? what of Sirius? would he change sides for his godson or will Harry lose him to his true nature? has Dumbledore gone too far in his bid to create a perfect weapon? what of the prophecy? it does say neither can live while one of them survives...if they get together it means neither is surviving and living it means they are both living would that null the prophecy? R&R please! and i really am sorry for starting yet another story LOL!


	2. Chapter 2

**Embracing His True Self **

**Chapter 2 **

**Escaping Or Is It Really? **

* * *

"The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been." whispered Voldemort, having his friends and family's complete attention, their eyes gleaming as he told his tale to them. "I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't fear that I might never regain my powers…yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour…I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess…and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me…"

Harry twitched, Voldemort's voice might seem like it didn't matter but the words that came out of his mouth made it seem like he was truly hurt by their actions or rather in this case inactions. "Try dying before you escaped." muttered Harry, curious that he couldn't even bring himself to say Quirrell's name; he couldn't feel guilty could he? Harry wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his thoughts. Rolling his eyes, as he was ignored once again as if he hadn't spoken. What a way to treat your guest of honour, thought Harry wryly.

"And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last…a servant returned to me: Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends, and decided to return to his master."

"Yes, I'm sure it's less embarrassing to blame those the same age of him than a thirteen year old." Harry said, glaring at Pettigrew causing him to squeak for a second before realizing something and grinning and giving that same little wave he had last year. Just before he'd turned into a rat and running away like a coward to escape.

"He sought me in the country where it had been long rumoured I was hiding…helped, of course, by the rats he encountered along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they a voided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them."

"Course he does, he is one," sneered Harry, still staring at Pettigrew, his gaze promised death. This caused the Death Eaters to twitch; their eyes going from Harry to their Lord, surprise flickered in them. Now if they had dared to interrupt their Lord once never mind multiple times they would be writhing in agony by this.

"But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food…and whom should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic? Now see this is the way that fate favours Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail - displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected of him - convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a night-time stroll."

Harry snorted blatantly at that, Pettigrew convince anyone to do anything? Grumbling inwardly, the magical bindings didn't leave any room for leeway, none at all. Every time he tried to get out it just tightened uncomfortably around his wrist. Sighing in defeat, he slumped against the statue, taking some pressure of his aching body from having been in the same position so long.

"He overpowered her…brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams…for - with a little persuasion - she became a veritable mine of information. She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only to willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She told me many things…but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her where powerful and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her."

"Wormtail's body, of course, was ill-adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if seen. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients for true rebirth…a spell or two of my own invention…a little help from my dear Nagini…a potion concocted from unicorn blood, and the snake venom Nagini provided…I was soon returned to an almost human form, and strong enough to travel." murmured Voldemort, yet his voice was heard clearly.

Invented his own spells, convince all these people to follow him, yet looked like a disgusting half man clinging desperately to immortality? Why hadn't he just used a vampire? It would have made things a lot less complicated. Then again not even vampires were truly immortal, wait unicorn blood? Why hadn't anyone said anything about unicorns being killed again like in first year? A cursed life, it was half the unicorn blood and the snake that had caused this appearance. If he was going to die, he wished he would get on with it already, he was getting hungry.

"There was no hope of stealing the Philosopher's Stone any more, for I knew that Dumbledore would have seen to it that it was destroyed. But I was willing to embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortal. I set my sights lower…I would settle for my old body back again, and my old strengths…"

He looked like that before he died? Really? Well that was unexpected really. How had he gone from the boy from the diary to this…this…disfigured insane guy? No not insane…not completely anyway, but not far from it either. Twitching out of his thoughts when he heard his name, protection? He called it fucking protection? Biting his tongue wincing when he tasted the metallic flavour of blood dribbling in his mouth. He'd actually bitten hard enough to draw blood, ouch, that fucking hurt. Of course that was nothing on the feeling of the Cruciatus Curse being cast upon him. The scream that left his throat was against his will, as agony…unlike anything he'd ever felt danced over him. Like he'd suffered ten beatings from his uncle simultaneously…Merlin he'd rather die than continue feeling this but the Slytherin part of him refused…the survivor in him refused to bow down.

Then it was over, the bindings loosened as he slumped against the stone of Tom Riddle. He could barely think, couldn't see…but slowly and eventually his vision returned but his muscles continued to spasm painfully and definitely out of his control. He had changed his mind, Voldemort was bloody crazy, meeting blood red eyes, and he stared impassively not allowing the wizard to intimidate him and even more refusing to show his fear. If he were to die today, he would make it so he was at least worthy of remembrance.

"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger."

"Just a little longer Nagini," added Voldemort to his snake.

Standing up straighter he turned to Wormtail, "Now untie him, Wormtail and give him back his wand."

Inwardly cursing when the Death Eaters moved in, completing the circle and obscuring the entire graveyard from view. Hissing at Wormtail causing him to stumble back after returning his wand. He should have let them kill him, but the Gryffindor they all expected wouldn't kill him, no matter what he did. Maybe the hat had been right, if he had been sorted into his true house - he probably wouldn't be having this problem. Standing up, wary of his injured leg, he had been in the hospital wing often enough how is it that he didn't know how to heal himself? Wait…there was a spell, what was it called again? Ferula, that was it, "Ferula," whispered Harry tapping his wand against his leg, trying it out he found it wasn't enough to stop his limping anyway.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" said Voldemort, softly his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

"Putting on a show isn't going to make it any more impressive when you try and kill someone with four years of magical education, which by the way sucks." said Harry bitterly, moving again damn that spider to hell it had screwed up his leg big time. "Considering you tried to kill me when I was a baby you don't really have morals by any stretch of imagination."

Those red eyes flashed again, angrily before they shifted his lipless mouth stretching into a smile. "We bow to one another, Harry." he said, "Come now the niceties must be observed…Dumbledore would like you to show manners, bow to death…Harry." Voldemort bowed slightly but his face never wavered from Harry's.

Harry's green eyes bored into his own before he mockingly bowed theatrically his arm waving out but his eyes also never left Voldemort's. His lips twitching at the aggravated look on his face, it might be the last time he did.

"And now we duel," said Voldemort, "Crucio!"

Harry hadn't even seen it coming, but considering he was riling Voldemort up he should have. After what felt like nearing an hour, but he knew it was probably less than a minute it stopped. He was on the floor again; he couldn't even remember falling as pain had just ate at him. He had though kept a tight grip of his wand which was a good thing. He contemplated just lying there and allowing him to end this whenever he felt like it. No, he scowled to himself, if this was his last day on this earth he would make sure he was a worthy opponent to remember.

"That hurt didn't it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?" whispered Voldemort.

"Sure, I'm a masochist," muttered Harry rolling over and getting himself to his feet, remaining still as he tried to get over the curse which was playing havoc with his insides. "Who doesn't love being Crucio'ed every day? It's the highlight of my night."

"Crucio!" snapped Voldemort.

Harry however, was ready and leapt aside, almost barrelling into the Death Eaters but barely preventing himself from doing so. There was a scream for a few seconds before it quit; it had obviously hit one of the Death Eaters. Harry chuckled in amusement, they'd gotten a laugh out of him so why shouldn't he?

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Harry, it was the only real spell he knew, as the spell formed he knew he was dead…he was surrounded by Death Eaters and Voldemort. He had only one wand, he was dead meat, it would take a miracle to get out of this and he was out of miracles and miraculous escapes.

Voldemort however was ready for him and shouted his own lethal spell, "Avada Kedavra!"

The green spell formed and left. Harry expected it to hit him, but it didn't. Both spells caught in mid air, and a large golden dome began to surround them. A 'whoa' left his lips as both of them were lifted into the air. Both of them were also gripping onto their wand not wanting to lose them. A simmering gold that connected both their wands splintered but the connection remained. He was relieved at least that Voldemort had no clue to what was happening. It made two of them, but Harry didn't want that connection broken, it had saved his life….oh he had no idea just how much it would save his life.

Grunting, Harry used both hands to secure the wand that was vibrating painfully making it near impossible to keep a hold off. Then a bead materialised, making its way to his own wand, he didn't want it to, then suddenly it was moving towards Voldemort's.

Green eyes met red as they began to put as much magic into it, but since Voldemort had just been brought back and was weakening already. Harry however, was in marginal good health, and his magic was as powerful as ever. The bead finally reached Voldemort's wand, then his jaw dropped when he saw the ghostly figure of Cedric Diggory emerge from the tip of Voldemort's wand.

Breaking eye contact with Voldemort, he looked down at the edges of the dome. The Death Eaters were prowling the edge, they were worried…about him? If it wasn't for the fact they liked to kill people he would have been touched really. Turning back he saw another figure had emerged from the wand, walking stick and all!

"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, causing Harry's jaw to drop. It was the Muggle from his dream…it had been real then how? How could he see through Voldemort's eyes? No it wasn't through Voldemort's eyes….he'd seen the Muggle first…then…swallowing thickly the snake?! There was something wrong with that. How could he have seen though the eyes of the snake? "Killed me, that one did…you fight him boy…"

Then another figure emerged, one he realized had to be Bertha Jorkins.

"Don't let go now!" she cried "Don't let him get you Harry - and don't let go!"

Harry rolled his eyes, if he heard that one more time he was going to explode, he got the picture. That was until the next person who came…was someone he couldn't ever get mad at despite the fact he never really knew her. His mother, Lily Evans-Potter.

"Your fathers coming…he wants to see you…it will be alright…hold on…" said Lily to her son.

"Alright? I'm surrounded by Death Eaters and don't have a way out!" cried Harry his exasperation obvious. Dumbledore hadn't made sure he knew how to defend himself; he was alone as always trying to get himself out of messes Dumbledore started.

"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments…but we will give you time…you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts…do you understand Harry?" James said, his voice distant as though driving through a tunnel, it was obvious Voldemort couldn't hear. Although he was otherwise occupied, by the ghosts of his victims…Voldemort's face was livid with fear a sight Harry never thought he would see. So that's how he would get back, if only he'd known he would have been able to get away earlier before Pettigrew reached him after killing Cedric Diggory.

"Yes," said Harry, his sweat making it damn near impossible to keep a tight grip on his wand.

"Harry…take my body back will you? Take my body back to my parents?" asked Cedric Diggory.

Harry blinked at the figure of Cedric Diggory, had he just asked him that? Here he was fighting for his very life, after putting up with all the shit of them believing he'd put his name in the goblet for fame…he dared ask this of him? "I will." said Harry automatically, it was after all what everyone would want of him.

"Do it now," said James, "Be ready to run. Do it down…"

"Now." growled Harry, yanking fiercely, as the connection broke and all the ghostly figures zoned in on Voldemort. Giving him the chance to escape, helping him, putting aside how much agony coursed through him he ran like he'd never run before. The adrenaline helping keep going, temporarily suspending all the pain he felt for a brief moment. Never running in a straight line, throwing in dodges so he didn't get hit in the back by any spells. Then finally he fell over the body of Cedric Diggory, turning back he saw Voldemort's attention was on him. "Accio!" he cried summoning the cup.

"_Looks like you__'__ll need to feed Pettigrew to Nagini now since I'm out of the picture…__"_hissed Harry slipping into Parseltongue just as he saw the look of surprise once again on that face. He snatched the cup in mid air and Voldemort's surprise turned to rage was the last thing he saw before he was thumping down on the grass once again at Hogwarts.

* * *

"Harry! Harry!" called a voice as arms roughly grabbed him and turned him over. He wasn't surprised to find it was Albus Dumbledore's worried face hovering over his own. He should be worried, Voldemort was back and he'd almost died because of his damn incompetence. Voldemort's words rang in his ears 'protected greater than the boy even realized' and that wasn't included the blood wards since he mentioned them along with whatever protection he meant. It made him sick and furious…if he found out someone had been watching him being abused and did nothing that was it, he was done.

"He's back," rasped Harry, "Voldemort's back."

"What's going on? What's happened?" asked Fudge, his face staring down at the two pasty white and terrified. "My god - Diggory! Dumbledore he's dead!"

Things faded out of focus, he could feel someone standing him up, but his leg just about gave out. Someone was helping him stay outright as everyone panicked. His vision swam out of focus once again; he was finding it extremely impossible to remain conscious. He could hear voices but he was unable to focus on what they were saying. Until he was grabbed once again, and a firmer voice was talking to him.

"It's alright, son, I've got you…come on…hospital wing…" demanded Moody.

"I should stay," said Harry trying to get Moody off him, there was a bloody spy at Hogwarts he wasn't taking any chances. He doubted it was Moody, they wouldn't use someone so close to Dumbledore and Dumbledore would have known it wasn't his friend.

"You need to lie down…now." said Moody, as they left the grounds and all that could be heard was the clunking of Moody's foot.

"What happened, Harry?" asked Moody.

"Cup was a Portkey," said Harry, "Took me and Cedric to a graveyard…and Voldemort was there…Lord Voldemort…"

"The Dark Lord was there? What happened then?" asked Moody, surprised when the boy stopped.

"The what?" asked Harry, gripping his wand, raising it against the Auror…the only people he'd heard calling Voldemort that so far was his followers. 'My faithful is already at Hogwarts' a shiver worked down his spine. He was alone with a Death Eater he couldn't take any more tonight.

"What are you doing, Potter? Put the wand away." said Moody staring him down.

"How the hell did you fool, Dumbledore?" asked Harry. The poly juice potion, the ingredients Snape accused him of stealing. So who was it? He had no idea, and Voldemort hadn't been very forthcoming about it either.

"Did he forgive them, the other Death Eaters?" asked Moody wildly, his wand aimed at Harry.

"Stupefy! Stupefy, stupefy!" fired Harry, just as voices could be heard at the entrance hall.

"Harry! What are you doing?" demanded Dumbledore, his shocked blue eyes gazing at Harry in surprised disappointment.

"Don't let him get away!" hissed Harry, as Moody ran, the others just let him through, when Harry tried to run after him Dumbledore stopped him. "He's getting away!"

Then in the distance they saw the wooden leg fly off, and in place a real leg, then the hair changed becoming longer and greasier. The figure continued to run leaving nothing but a circular object they all knew to be an eye, Moody's famous eye and the wooden leg in its wake. Belatedly spells began to fly at him but it was too late, whoever it was…was gone.

"Damn it!" snarled Harry, forcing himself out of Dumbledore's hold, why did nobody ever bloody listen.

"Was that who I think it was?" asked Dumbledore his eyes wide with apparently shock. Then he realized something else. "Where is Alastor?"

"Poly-Juice potion, he must be alive and close by." stated Severus sharply, his face impassive.

* * *

Okay was anyone expecting that? it looks like Crouch Jr lives to see another day instead of getting kissed...if only Harry had been that cautious in the book that might have actually happened as well...will Barty remain completely insane? or with time will he heal and become more stable without the imperious curse on him? one insane witch is enough to deal with lol well when Bellatrix finally gets out :D next chapter will be from Voldemorts point of view and that will be a new one that's for sure usually he's always in the background now he's going to be the major player how will Voldemort get in touch with Harry? will he figure out hes a horcrux? and what about Severus? will he be a true death eater or will he change sides when he realizes Harry is part of it? R&R


	3. Chapter 3

**Embracing His True Self **

**Chapter 3 **

**Tom Riddle **

* * *

Tom Riddle otherwise, better known by everyone as Lord Voldemort for those courageous enough to say it, and You-Know-Who by the media and those terrified of the mere mention of him. He'd made a promise to himself that he would be the most powerful wizard alive, and that everyone would be petrified to mention him by name. He had been thirteen years of age…the world had been his oyster, ripe for the taking. Or so he thought, regretfully the world wasn't as simple as he assumed it to be. It wasn't as easy to get his point across to everyone, like it had been to convince the other Slytherins…the first of his followers.

He'd lived up to that promise, other than two or three people in particular who dared mention his pseudo name, and those worse who dared mention his Muggle name. Or rather more accurately one wizard who dared mention his Muggle name, Dumbledore.

Once he'd sent everyone away, he Apparated himself and Nagini to his home, Barty had done him extremely proud. He had after all managed to successfully fool Albus Dumbledore for an entire school year, not only into believing he wasn't a Death Eater but into believing he was Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody. He had saved him, now it was his responsibility to protect him, from the Auror's, from the Order and most importantly from himself.

He had been sceptical about the entire thing being pulled off; Crouch just wasn't in his right mind. After being held under the Imperious Curse for boarding on thirteen years it would take him a long time to return to the Barty he knew. Of course he would have to ensure he was appropriately punished for what he did just after he was…temporarily defeated. There were many things he tolerated but torturing magical people into insanity wasn't one of them. The magical world wasn't big enough to wilfully spill magical blood. It was madness, the only deciding factor in keeping Crouch alive was the fact the Longbottom's had been actively pursuing him, and were both order members.

They were idiots, they didn't even know what they were fighting for, just following Dumbledore's every move/orders hoping for the best. Looking up at the property, one he'd succeeded in keeping a secret from everyone. He'd had his family build it, those who had the ability to build anyway; they'd been paid generously for their time. The land belonged to his true ancestor, Salazar Slytherin; it had been there since the same year as the conception of Hogwarts. The ninety acres of land had been the first suggestion that Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw turned down for one reason or another. It had turned out to be a good thing, since this property was extremely well hidden. In fact nobody knew such a building existed and that's the way Voldemort wanted it. He'd never even seen it finished before he'd met his untimely defeat. Gazing at it now his sharp red eyes taking in his surroundings, as always cautiously, never truly let his guard down anywhere. Although if there was a place where he could, it would be here.

'Rats Master, so many rats' hissed Nagini, her snake tongue sprouting out as she tasted the air and the very heartbeat of the animal she hungered for.

"Go and get them Nagini, and I promise soon you'll eat the one you want." hissed Voldemort, his long pale hand caressing down the scales of his beloved familiar. No she was more than a familiar they were both connected on a level that a normal wizard could only dream of. He had been lucky to find her, and he vowed to keep her close at all times. "Do not go far."

"Yes Master," hissed Nagini before she slithered off, her eyes bright with the enjoyment and thrill of chasing live prey.

Voldemort watched her go before he ventured inside the manor, which had been specifically built to his tastes. The interior and exterior had all been kept in perfect condition, good, it meant the House-Elves had stayed on and kept it clean. It was just a pity his Death Eaters hadn't had the same loyalty, stepping in feeling the wards expand from inside his chest. He could now feel everything, every animal within clear shot of the wards, especially Nagini.

Voldemort wandered around his property, most of it was empty, it would need filled but he had House-Elves for that. It wasn't like he could go shopping for things he needed after all. At least not without the shop workers passing out on him, or being surrounded by Auror's before he could think about paying. Smirking at the thought, Voldemort entered the Master bedroom and sat down in what was probably the only bed in the property. Laying down he relaxed and relished the feel of having a body once more. Part of him had suspected this would never happen, ever since he'd heard part of that Prophecy his life had gone from great to down the toilet. Red eyes gleaming he realized he had to hear it all. He needed that prophecy, but how to get it without alerting anyone that he was back. If he knew the Ministry like he thought he did, they would not believe he had returned such was the fear he had over them.

Potter, the boy was the most infuriating person on the planet, how he kept evading him Voldemort did not know, but he didn't like it. Sitting up his brow furrowing, remembering what Potter had said to him. That he would need to feed someone else to Nagini since he got away, he never said anything like that tonight. He had promised Nagini that she could eat Potter after he was dead…months ago. He had been speaking Parseltongue, and so had Potter. His flat nostrils flared, how had Potter managed to get such a gift? Parseltongue was for Slytherin's only, something wasn't right. Not only had he seen his conversation with Nagini but understood it, how and why?

He had to get his faithful followers out of Azkaban, thirteen years stuck in that hell hole with Dementors for company, he'd be lucky to have them back sane. The Lestrange's had been his most faithful followers, even if they were a bit extreme especially Bellatrix, although she was only a Lestrange through marriage. Rabastan and Rodolphus were a little more laid back, probably thanks to their fathers influence, one of his earliest friends. Rastaban had helped him gather the Slytherins together, form a side away from Dumbledore, who was unfortunately the only one anyone would listen to. Even before Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald people had been vying for him to help. When he actually defeated him it got worse. His points and ideas had been ignored, and then he'd created more and more Horcruxes, and became extremely mentally unstable. Especially with the knowledge there was someone out there who could bring about his downfall. It didn't help the boy had managed to successfully escape him three times.

No that was wrong; it wasn't just three times was it? According to Potter they'd had another encounter in the chamber of secrets. That did infuriate him, it had taken him five years to find that chamber, and Potter was only fourteen and with the eye Crouch kept on him he doubted it was this year so three years it had taken him. He couldn't help but very grudgingly admitting the boy was resourceful when he needed to be. Four times he had survived him, more than any other on the planet.

Just wait until he found out it hadn't even taken Harry a year to find its location.

His fist clenched when he realized there was only one way the chamber could have come into play. At the age of sixteen when he had created his first Horcrux he'd been determined to finish Salazar's noble work. Such an arrogant teenager he had been, with goals as low as killing children. He'd wanted to purge Hogwarts of the filthy little Mudblood's, which was before he realized what he himself was, to close friends it hadn't mattered. The fact he had Slytherin blood running through his veins was enough.

He'd always assumed his mother had been the Muggle, and his father had been the magical wizard. Unfortunately unable to attain any information on the Riddle name had left him to come to terms with the realization that his father wasn't magical. It had all come to head when his maternal uncle had said he looked like his filthy Muggle father. When he'd found out he had been furious, enough to kill them all with the killing curse and modify Morfin's memory. Making him think he had in fact killed the Riddle family, it wasn't hard to disbelief after all he had been sentenced to Azkaban before for using magic on Muggles….the very same Muggle to be exact.

He'd planned on leaving behind a diary that would finish his and Salazar's noble work, he had kept that diary. Until he gave it to Lucius Malfoy with instructions on keeping it safe. Just how had it ended up in Harry Potter's hands? Perhaps he had been to hasty in forgiving Lucius, once he had more energy and Pettigrew was here he would call the wizard and get his explanation. He knew either way he wasn't going to be happy with his follower.

* * *

"Wormtail," hissed Voldemort, his eyes flashing red in suppressed irritation. "Bring me my potions, immediately!"

Pettigrew squeaked in surprise, having not expected orders so soon. He had after all he had only literally just stepped into the main hall where the Dark Lord was sitting. His Animagus form was handy for more than just avoiding detection. His sense of smell was greater when he was a rat; it had led his nose straight to his Master. Knowing better than to delay, he turned right back out and scurried away to the Potions Laboratory. He knew what Potions his Master was demanding, opening the lab door he shivered in cold and fear. He had always been terrified of Severus Snape, even joining the Dark Lord as he had, didn't quash that out of him.

"What are you doing here?" sneered Severus Snape, glaring at the rat wanting nothing more than to kill the thing. Yet he did not, he continued brewing despite the interruption. He knew one day Pettigrew would screw up, and he would wait until then, it would be free reign after that. Oh the torture he wanted to inflict on him, it would be heaven.

Pettigrew didn't reply, he just snivelled, as he wandered over to the potion supply Snape had already made. With shaking hands, almost dropping them in the process, he grasped onto two potions before bolting from the room. Flushing red in humiliation hearing the derisive snort that followed him. Why was Snape here? He hadn't been faithful! Snape hadn't found him, he had. He alone had set out to find him, rescued him, and restored him back to his old self. Instead of seeing the ones that terrified him writhing in agony, they'd gotten away with it. What happened at the graveyard didn't count! That was no punishment that was just a slap on the wrist. He had so looked forward to their screams, but no they were walking around pain free.

Opening the door the overweight weak wizard scampered in, hastily handing both potions to his Master. "Can I get anything else for you, My Lord?" asked Pettigrew eagerly, ready to prove his worth. Almost as eager as he was to get away, but unfortunately he had nowhere to go. He couldn't even spend time in his Animagus form here, too risky; he didn't want to be eaten by Nagini - as his Master had threatened often enough.

"No, be gone." snapped Voldemort, knowing the rat wouldn't go too far. Nauseated by the sight of him, the smell of him and the incessant snivelling. To begin with it had been amusing, but it had become old extremely fast. It didn't help that he was tiring easily; his new body would take a while to recuperate so he could do what he always did - cause chaos and despair. He had kept Pettigrew out of sight, never letting him attend meetings unless he was hidden in his Animagus form. For good reason, he was a useful spy, but with the Potter's gone and his position known as well as his ability, he was quite frankly useless to him. Fortunately for him, Pettigrew had brought him back, even if it was out of sheer cowardice. Shaking off his thoughts, he uncorked the vials and swallowed both potions one at a time. One was a pepper up potion and the other would help strengthen his magic, barely grimacing he banished the vials. He would be taking them for months, he suspected, which was why Severus was in the lab brewing enough to last him. Once he was done, he would be returning to Hogwarts to report to the old fool.

Speaking of his spy, he had grilled him for an hour on everything that had happened since he was gone. Of course until four years ago, there was nothing much worth reporting. Oh then the information he'd received was extensive to say the least. Most of which he already knew, Severus had not known he was on the back of Quirrell and had fought to keep it from a mediocre wizard - and in doing so gaining more trust from the blind old fool he was trying to get in good graces with. Understandable since it was the first true chance he had to prove he had 'changed' the expression on Severus' face had almost made him laugh. The spy had an answer for everything, if he was honest he despaired at the thought Dumbledore had truly converted his good friend. He trusted Severus more than any other, perhaps because of their similarities. The fact he drank the potions he made, said more than anything else ever could really.

The stone had regrettably been destroyed in the aftermath, according to Severus, who had confessed to listening in on conversations when he could. Then it had been confirmed that Potter was indeed a Parselmouth, and he finally gained answered to the mystery around his diary. Not that Severus knew what it was - none of his followers knew exactly what he'd done to achieve immortality. Or as immortal as one could become in this life. Potter had found the damn entrance in less than a year, the boy was utterly infuriating, and there wasn't a word to truly describe him. How the boy was in Gryffindor he didn't know. Potter was resourceful, too resourceful if he was honest. Lucius had slipped his beloved diary into Ginny Weasley's possession and she had used it. For a pureblood Witch it was a foolish and idiotic mistake to make. If anything he would have given it to a Muggle born who wouldn't have understood how dangerous such an item was. Severus commented on Dumbledore stating Harry had defeated the 'Monster' in the chamber. He knew what it was and it baffled him, just how in the blazes had Potter, a twelve year old, successfully defeat a sixty foot basilisk? What the hell had Dumbledore been teaching him? He must have found some way to educate him, despite the fact he lived Muggles. There was absolutely no other explanation possible. It truly was a shame to kill someone so capable; Potter was exactly what he looked for in followers, strong, powerful, magically competent and extremely intelligent. He had to kill him before he got even more powerful and further trained by Dumbledore. He wasn't going to allow the light to win, he couldn't, he'd put his entire life into being heard - and he'd be damned if he quit now.

Potter's third year had been quiet all things concerned, he had learned about Pettigrew's betrayal and gave him the opening he'd needed. Revealed to Dumbledore, Wormtail had no choice but to come to him, to save him from the werewolf and Black heir. Putting in motion the events of this year, he had to admire the way the boy had completed the tasks, even with Barty at the helm trying to help; he'd done better than any of them dreamed of. It left a bitter taste in his mouth to admire the boy. Yet only a fool didn't give their opponent or enemy the respect they deserved - If it was deserved and in this case it regretfully was.

The boy was calm in the face of adversary; this was the biggest worry for him. He hadn't seen any sign of real panic on the boy, never tongue-tied, and openly defying him. He had guts in spades, nobody ever spoke to him in that manner, not even Dumbledore - Dumbledore liked to scold him as if he was an errant child, this set him on edge admittedly…but the boy - the boy regarded him impassively with a mouth on him that would get him in trouble.

This all troubled him, but not as much as the fact the boy had known something he couldn't... shouldn't possibly have. He had promised Potter to Nagini, after he dealt the killing blow; he had speaking in Parseltongue and in the old, now run down Riddle Mansion. If he had seen that what else had he seen? How could he see it? That was the point, how and why? The blasted boy couldn't possibly be a seer, so what was it? He wouldn't rest easy until he had figured it out. Standing up he moved from the main hall and back towards the bedroom, he could feel his body weakening, and he absolutely refused to let anyone see him in such a state. It had been mortifying having Wormtail feed him and see him so weak; now that he was back he wouldn't allow it a single second more.

Sweating by the time he got to his bedroom, he closed the door and the wards immediately flared to life. It had taken a great deal of his magic and strength to do them but he didn't care. He didn't want anyone disturbing him in here, and soon the manor would be filled with his followers. Those in Azkaban wouldn't have anywhere else to go once he got them out of the hell hole. He would need to employ the services of Grant once again, to heal the damage done by thirteen long years in Azkaban. Grant was a healer, one of the best, neutral until his daughter had been beaten savagely by a Muggle born wizard. Almost killed her, since then he'd been firmly on his side, helping when needed. He always paid Grant handsomely for his services, he had never marked him. He had a lot of followers out there he hadn't marked in ranking places, when it became apparent it wasn't so secret anymore.

Lying down on the bed, Voldemort groaned in relief as his aching body relaxed again, he hated this. Needing to lie down every few hours, he had things to do, he couldn't continue on as he was. He'd sent word to Lucius to get the layout of Azkaban; after he had them he would show Lucius the error of his ways. He would also need to send word to the Giants and other creatures, he had alliances to build - he couldn't win the war with his Death Eaters alone. No matter how powerful they were, or determined, he needed a heavy arsenal at his beck and call, who better than the werewolves, vampires, Trolls and Giants. It would take Fenrir time to round up his old pack, and garner new supporters along the way, perhaps too long, he would have to wait and see.

Patience had never been a virtue that he possessed…at least not in a good long while.

* * *

"My Lord," said Barty bowing low reverently. His Lord was back after all this time, something he hadn't given up hope for - but fearing would never come true.

"Stand up," hissed the Dark Lord; watching Barty become confused and do he bade him immediately. This definitely wasn't the Barty he knew; Barty had proved himself before his demise and thus hadn't had to bow since. He did it to the lower levels to remind them of the hold he had on them. Whom they had sworn their allegiance to, who they would protect. He knew Barty wasn't himself, and how he had succeeded in fooling Dumbledore so long was a true mystery. "When did Bartemius Crouch subjugate himself to me?" hissed the wizard, hurt flashing in his eyes before it was gone - nobody would believe it if they saw it.

"My Lord?" questioned Barty weakly; he didn't understand the Dark Lord's question. The scene with Potter flashed through his eyes, he didn't resist allowing his Lord to see all. He dug further still, passed his murky memories of being under the Imperious curse. Passed the memories of his time in Azkaban, passed his trial…where he'd begged his parents to help him (much to his despair) and to his capture by the Aurors. Barty, Rodolphus and Rabastan had barely touched the Auror's. A few Cruciatus curses had been cast by them yes, mostly they'd subdued the Longbottoms but the person causing the everlasting damage was Bellatrix. She hadn't listened to them, yet they'd loyally stuck by her side as he'd made sure his Death Eaters did. They had been arrested with her despite the fact they hadn't caused the Longbottoms insanity. Barty's biggest fear was not being loyal enough to his Lord…whom he thought of as a father.

"You are loyal Barty, I know that, never fear…" said Voldemort his voice soft and soothing. He removed himself from the wizards mind, easing softly not wanting to cause further damage to the wizard - who he also owed his rebirth to. Barty was all but face down on the floor, exhausted and shivering yet never resisting. "Amita!"

"Yes Sir?" a House-Elf appeared, gazing eagerly at Voldemort - ready to serve him.

"Take Barty to the Blue room, ensure he bathes, feed him then help him into bed. Grant will be here to see him first thing in the morning." demanded Voldemort, as he demanded everyone else to do things for him. Amita however, didn't mind since it was what she was born to do - serve.

"Sir?" asked Barty looked quite baffled, he hadn't seen such a caring side to the Dark Lord before.

"Go." repeated Voldemort, his tone deadlier. Barty hadn't been in his inner circle long enough to know he treated them different. Not only were they allowed in his home, but they received certain benefits that most his supporters did not. Mostly that they could speak to him about ideas, as long as they were respectful about it. Unfortunately that had stopped when he became obsessed over the prophecy. Regretfully his followers had paid the price, and with a little luck he could earn their complete respect back. He wasn't a stupid wizard, he knew, deep down they had all but given up on him during the last year before he'd met his untimely end. He summarised that's why none of his loyal followers had tired too hard to look for him. To them he had crossed the line trying to hunt down and kill a one year old boy, especially those who had children in his own circle. His hastiness had been his downfall, if he had listened to the others perhaps things would have been different.

"Come, Mister Barty," said Amita, the female Elf, touched him and they both disappeared.

Relaxing slightly, knowing he had to pace himself, Lucius would be arriving soon and he wasn't going to be weak for this meeting. Oh no, once Lucius showed up he was going to make sure the wizard knew who served whom.

"Devika!" called Voldemort after a few minutes of silent contemplation.

"How may Devika help Master?" asked the House-Elf popping in, she too was female.

"Retrieve my potions," demanded Voldemort, she knew what to get, since she'd gotten them before - he refused to call upon Pettigrew unless he must.

"Yes sir," she replied, they never called their Master anything other than Sir or Master. He wouldn't want them calling him Tom after all and certainly not Voldemort when no other was allowed to. Master You-Know-Who would have been a mouthful.

* * *

Harry watched the scenery passing, the lush green fields, trees and birds flying overhead not really seeing it. His mind was miles away, thinking on everything that had happened since that day, as he liked to call it. Of course he had played his part - the part Dumbledore expected from his little hero. It was difficult, more so now, than it had ever been, although he wasn't quite sure why. A few months ago, everyone had been hovering around him, in awe of him after seeing his moves on his Firebolt - fighting the Dragon. Once again they had turned on him, and he was quite frankly tired of it. He almost wanted to give them a real reason to hate him. The fact Dumbledore kept going on about Voldemort wasn't helping either, it was as if he wanted as much negative attention on him as possible.

Bartemius 'Barty' Crouch Junior was now a wanted man, an escapee from Azkaban prison. With of course Fudge is blaming Sirius Black for. Stating that they both got away at the same time, without anyone realizing Crouch was missing until now. Despite that announcement he was still being accused of murdering Cedric Diggory, apparently not even his wand or memory was good enough proof to prove Voldemort was back.

After Crouch got away, Dumbledore forced him up to his office to recount everything that had happened. Seemingly unbothered by the fact his leg was bleeding enormously, especially if the blood seeping through the bandages he'd made before his duel with Voldemort. To him that wasn't the worst of it, his entire body had ached, and the adrenaline had long ago stopped pumping through his veins. His body had been shaking intermittently, the after affects of the Cruciatus Curse that had been cast on him. By the time Dumbledore had got him down to the Hospital wing he had been dead on his feet, dizzy with blood loss. He certainly didn't need the Dreamless sleeping potion foisted upon him, but took it regardless. Say what he liked, but it was the best sleep he'd ever had in his life, before he had to face the reality.

For once in his life he was glad Voldemort seemed to wait until the end of the year to finalize his schemes. So he didn't have to put up with everyone glaring at him in disgust. Or see the pity in his friends gazes as they tried to draw him out of his 'depression'. The Dursleys looking at him in disgust he could handle, after all he was used to that. He should be used to the idiots at the school turning him into a convenient scapegoat but he wasn't. Leaning his head against the cool glass, once again wanting nothing more than to give them a reason to hate him. He was tired of it, the constant stares, he just wanted to blend in with the night and disappear.

Hogwarts seemed to become less and less like home to him, he had nowhere he could just sit and relax. At Privet Drive he was treated worse than Dobby the House-Elf. Degraded, beaten and made to slave over every part of the house. Now Hogwarts? Well he had to watch his back from everyone and everything had to put on a show of being the 'Boy-Who-Lived'.

Home, he'd give his wand arm to have somewhere he could call just that.

"Harry? Are you okay?" Hermione asked looking at him in concern, her brown eyes filled with apprehension as if she feared he might snap any given moment.

"He's fine, Mione, leave him alone." said Ron shaking his head, girls honestly.

"Anything off the trolley?" asked the Witch as the doors parted showing the large sweet filled cart she was pulling.

Ron perked up, salivating at all the sweets available for purchase. He looked over at Harry, before frowning; he wasn't even looking at the door. "Harry?" called Ron, becoming concerned himself now. Harry always bought lots of sweets from the cart, coming and going to/from Hogwarts.

"No thanks," muttered Harry his breath steaming up the window in the compartment.

Ron looked devastated, watching the Witch close the doors and continue on, calling on all other compartments to see if they wanted anything. He could barely believe Harry wasn't getting anything; he always, always bought stuff for them to eat. The added benefit was Hermione barely touched any either, so it was more for him. Hermione's were something called dentists that look after teeth - which was odd but since Muggles didn't have any magic, it made sense.

"You should be eating something healthy anyway," said Hermione in what was probably meant as a soothing consoling manner but it came out as smug. It helped that she wouldn't need to sit and watch them gorge themselves on a mountain of sugar and become hyper.

"Shut up, Mione," muttered Ron his bitterness bleeding through.

Hermione huffed before diving for her bag and bringing out a book and quickly immersing herself in it. The brooding trio remained silent for the rest of the ride home. Something Harry was very grateful for, he just wanted in the mood to put up with them right now. It didn't help that they'd gone to the Headmaster's office and then lied about where they'd been.

Harry didn't even look up when the conductor announced they would be in Kings Cross in less than five minutes. There was no point to him rushing, since Vernon was always late, another way to show just how insignificant he was to the man.

"Harry come on, we have to go." said Hermione, sounding as though she was trying to coax a dog from under the bed or out of the house. Without waiting to see if he moved, Ron helped her down with her trunk, unfortunately on this end they couldn't use magic like they had to get them onboard. At least not until they turned seventeen, then she'd be able to freely use it. That time couldn't come soon enough, she couldn't wait.

"Thanks," said Hermione, in her own way making up with Ron - not wanting to leave things sour, especially now she knew the Weasley's and herself would be going to Grimmauld Place for the holidays. They were in danger because they were friends with Harry, and they needed to be protected. She took what Professor Dumbledore said seriously, and she would do it. She would go to Grimmauld Place, she wouldn't write to Harry and keep him safe, the Headmaster knew best after all.

Together they also got Harry's trunk down seeing he hadn't moved Hermione was becoming increasingly agitated by Harry's ignorance. The way the ride was going, she wouldn't have a problem not writing all summer! This was ridiculous, sure it had been something difficult Harry had been through but did he need to go into a strop? Looking out the window she realized they were in the tunnel and had nearly halted to a stop.

As soon as the train came to a jerky stop, they left the compartment, and made their way off the train. Weaving in and out of the students and parents. Slipping through the magical barrier, protecting the train and magical entrance. Nobody even paid the slightest bit of attention to them as they appeared.

"Look, your parents." said Hermione pointing a finger giving Ron a general direction on them.

"Is that Mad-Eye Moody? What's he doing here? Is it really him?" asked Ron surprised to see the old Auror up and about so quickly. Everyone knew the teacher they'd had all year hadn't been the paranoid Auror, but a Death Eater in disguise using Poly-Juice Potion. Nobody could deny they'd actually learnt a ton of stuff that year though, even if it had been scum teaching them.

"Harry your Uncle is there, he looks…purple." commented Hermione watching the man, he looked very uncomfortable about the wizards.

Harry wanted to close his eyes and curse, his Uncle was out there beside the Weasleys? Quickly marching himself towards his Uncle praying he hadn't been there too long. Although it was long enough, Hermione was right, he looked furious. As he got closer he realized why, Moody was threatening him, what the fuck? Why would the idiot do something like that? As soon as he got home he knew it was in for it. Moody gave him a sick parody of what was meant to be a reassuring smile, but Harry paid no mind.

"We'll see you later, alright mate?" said Ron, not promising to write like he normally would.

Harry nodded, catching on the fact that Ron wasn't his normal consoling self, if anything he looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead he just clicked his jaw shut, looking awkwardly at his parents before walking towards them.

"Be careful, Harry." said Hermione quietly, before she too wandered away towards Ron and the Weasleys.

Harry quickly made his hasty exit, with his Uncle practically running from the station, for a big man he sure could move when he wanted to. He had noticed the lack of Hermione's parents, was she staying with the Weasleys? Had that been why she had gone with Ron to the Headmasters office? If that was the case why lie about it? It was such a stupid thing to be deceitful about.

* * *

There You'll notice the names of the House-Elves are Hindi since Voldemort named his snake after them I've tried to follow that sort of line of thought I suppose I hope you like them! There wasn't many replies to whether or not you'd like Severus to remain in the story or die...either from Dumbledore or being a traitor to the dark side... what about Ron and Hermione is there any hope for them? who out of his old friends will he see or during choosing sides does he leave his old life behind completely? Neville? Luna? Twins? Hermione? Ron? oh and whether it will be a Mpreg or not - can you see Voldemort as a father? what age would you like the Dark Lord regressed to? same age as Harry and looking like Tom from the chamber? will that be what starts their relationship of? or will he always have snake like features? his eyes perhaps or mouth thin maybe both how would you like to see him? and just how will he get back to that? will Harry help Voldemort remerge with his souls parts all bar one (maybe two if you count the diary?) or maybe three if you want a spare somewhere out of both their reaches in case Harry dies? R&R


	4. Chapter 4

**Embracing His True Self **

**Chapter 4 **

**A Surprise or two **

* * *

Harry lay on the bed in the smallest house in number four Privet Drive. Multiple bruises showing on his aching body, even two weeks on they hadn't healed enough to stop causing him pain. His temple and the front of his head held the worst bruises; Vernon in his rage after he got him into the house pushed him. With Vernon's brutal strength he'd gone flying into the banister and then to the stairs. No Quidditch reflexes could have prevented the attack, couldn't have stopped him being so viciously manhandled. It didn't help that Harry was still weakened after the tournament, the Cruciatus Curse after-affects didn't just fade away overnight. He had been so disorientated he hadn't felt the kicks to the stomach, he only deduced what happened later when he woke up and found himself in his room. Vernon and Dudley were as vicious as ever, after all he only had to write to them. The freaks never came near the door; the bitterness that crawled through Harry when he knew the fat bastard was right left him feeling sick. It hadn't had anything to do with the kicks to the stomach he'd received either.

Other than coming into the small room to force him to write to the Order that everything was alright, he was pretty much left on his own locked up. Which didn't bother Harry overly much, it was the fact he felt a sense of déjà vu. He hadn't received a single letter from his friends, and he seriously doubted it was anything Dobby was doing this time. They had been distant with him ever since the night before they left Hogwarts. Directly after they had come from the Headmaster's office, the fact they hadn't said they would write didn't help. They were leaving him alone, unaware of what was happening in his world, cut off. The rage he felt when he thought about it left him panting in exertion. He wasn't sure who he was angrier at, Ron and Hermione going through with it or Dumbledore for telling them. It was the only logical explanation he could come up with, it wasn't like them.

It wouldn't have mattered who said it to him, he would never have left them without word. It might have something to do with them being the only friends he'd ever had though. Ron and Hermione probably had friends growing up, and Hermione might even have friends in the Muggle world he didn't know. She didn't talk about her life outside of the magical world, well other than to occasionally mention her parents or where she went on holiday. She always sounded so smug about that, Ron thankfully didn't explode, which he had assumed he would the first time Hermione mentioned going abroad. It certainly happened every time his fame came into the picture - as if he could bloody control that anymore than where Hermione's parents took her on holiday.

Had the Ministry acknowledged Voldemort being back? He somehow doubted it and that probably made Voldemort happy. How had Voldemort survived that night? Did the reflecting killing curse not have enough power to kill him? And more importantly why the hell did Voldemort want to kill him? He was fourteen years old…had been only one when he came to kill him. It couldn't be just because he survived surely, he'd wanted his blood for a reason. It wasn't just because of his mother's blood protection; there were millions of ways to kill someone in the magical world. He could have used anyone's blood, came back laid low, without anyone the wiser, and killed him without him any trouble. After all he wouldn't have known how could he have defended himself from something he didn't know was there?

No, there had to be reason, Dumbledore and Voldemort both knew that reason, and it disconcerted him. After all one was trying to run his life while the other wanted to make sure he didn't live to see his next birthday. He was completely at their mercy, until he was old enough to live on his own. That day couldn't come soon enough, he didn't care what Dumbledore said as soon as he hit seventeen he was out of here. Although he could get a house of his own at sixteen in the Muggle world, it wouldn't be safe he didn't know enough about warding to afford himself proper protection.

Harry continued to stare at the yellow ceiling, his room was all faded and peeled, and it had never been decorated. He didn't dare put anything to do with the magical world up. He was deep in thought, so much so he didn't even become distracted by this stomach growling loudly, it cramped occasionally but Harry was used to this. His entire life he had gone without proper meals and nutrients here. The summers nowadays were the worst, since he was used to meals at Hogwarts. At least on his birthday he got some food from Mrs. Weasley, her care packages at birthdays and Christmases always had food in them, it saved him from imminent starvation. The cold tin of soup they pushed through the cat flap every now and again, didn't really help him much.

He may not have twitched when his stomach grumbled, but he did become startled when a House-Elf he had never seen before popped into his room. It would have been hard not to hear since it sounded almost like Apparation, but without the more backfiring car sound. There was a reason it was called 'popping' instead of Apparation, it sounded as if your ears had popped really loudly. Before he could open his mouth to ask who he or she was, she'd hooked her hand on his too large jumper and removed him from Privet Drive.

* * *

It took only two weeks for the Dark Lord Voldemort to find the answers he sought. Which was amazing, all things considered, since he had so many plans put into motion. He had gotten in touch with Fenrir, a good friend of his who he had taught non-verbal magic to. Although if he knew how some of his Death Eaters treated him, they would have paid a very heavy price for it. Although it might be something to do with his blind insanity getting too much. He had not been kind to anyone, and not even Fenrir was an exception to that. He had been unable to sleep, unable to eat, and the urge to kill the prophecy child had ruled out everything else. He knew his followers had lost a great deal of respect for him, due to his past actions. His fear of death had paralyzed him, making a dark red cloud to form over him. At least this wouldn't be a problem this time around. After all he planned on duelling the boy, and that was as fair as anyone could get. All he knew about Potter, or assumed he didn't know why the boy had used only simple spells.

He'd used the disarming spell, on him, Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard alive? There was no way the boy could have predicted the events that occurred. Even he was in the dark about that, but it would be rectified sooner or later, he would figure out why it had happened. If he had managed to kill a Basilisk why didn't he show his true power? His life had been in danger; surely he wouldn't have been bothered about seeming like a mediocre wizard? The boy was an enigma, and a mass of contradictions from what he knew of him. For the fiftieth time he couldn't help but regret the death of such a capable wizard, it disgusted him to the core to see someone with so much potential wiped out. Magical blood shouldn't be spilled; there weren't enough of them because of the stupid Muggle wars and those who openly defied him.

Back to his current dilemma, it was ironically enough the connection between him and Nagini that gave him his answer. Purely accidental of course, he had slipped into Nagini's mind, watched her hissing about the prey she wanted to eat, well it wasn't hissing to him, but rather English as Parseltongue always was. It had hit him like a ton of bricks, left him shocked to the core for the rest of the night. He had somehow, someway created a human Horcrux. Harry Potter was Lord Voldemort's Horcrux. He had meant to create one with the baby's death, but his magic seeing his intentions must have came apart as his body was destroyed - imbedding itself in the injured child. He was completely flummoxed, nowhere did it say humans could be turned into soul containers, the biggest worry was what did it mean? What did he do more specifically? If he tried to kill Potter, he would destroy part of his soul as well. He had no idea of the affect it would cause, what if it left him completely insane? He had so many plans he wanted to implement, he wanted to change the magical world, to make it better, safer.

He would need to confirm this, before he went any further. Which would mean bringing Potter here, considering the fact he could slither out of trouble at every turn, he would make sure he couldn't get away. He wasn't sure what he would do if the boy was one of his Horcruxes. He would need to do more research, find out if it could be removed from its 'host' or container. He knew there wasn't, he had read the book from back to front, and he wasn't stupid enough to try something before understanding it completely.

How did he get Potter from the protective wards? That was the question now on his mind. He could not get near Privet Drive, nor could anyone that wished him harm. Not that he wanted to kill the boy…yet, not until he had his answers, but the wards would still view him as a threat. Rubbing his long pale fingers across his chin, sitting comfortably on his throne, he began to think of ways to get his hands on Potter. Finding it incredibly odd that his first thoughts weren't to kill him. His thoughts on killing Potter for everything he had done had been constant since the prophecy, worse after he had been ripped from his body. Even at that young vulnerable age he had been a threat to his power. He had been incredibly foolish and rash, as he'd told his Death Eaters that much.

His red eyes flared as an idea hit him, a vindictive smirk flared across his face, which would have made all his Death Eaters cringe. Well maybe with the exception of Bellatrix, who would have just cackled along with her 'Master' as she liked to call him. The others all called him 'My Lord' as long as they had shown respect he didn't mind. Lucius had been all too eager to spill everything, especially with the threat of being killed hanging over him. The disgraced blonde had told him of Arthur Weasley successfully getting entrance to his home to search for 'dark artefacts'. How he had worried about the diary being found, deciding to get back at Weasleys and planting a dark object in his daughters possession. Of course he hadn't understood what it would do, begging for forgiveness on his knees from his Lord. How his own House-Elf had betrayed him, warning Potter and inevitably being freed by the twelve year old. Oh, ho, Lucius hadn't wanted to reveal that, but he knew when information was being held back. A brief stint under the Cruciatus curse wiped any pride from him, and he revealed how Potter had done it, then what happened afterwards. A mere House-Elf had put Lucius Malfoy, a pureblood on his arse ten feet down a corridor. He would love to see it, but he refrained from ransacking Lucius' mind. After all he had more important things to do, such as begin the process of working out how to get his faithful from Azkaban. He had the layout and a plan in place, all he had to do now was negotiate with the Dementors and find out what wards were around the inescapable prison.

"Amita!" called Voldemort setting his face into an impassive mask. He would have to press on her the importance of her task, if she could get passed the wards. So far they were good at doing the tasks he appointed them, unfortunately they hadn't served him long. He had taken them on two years before he was defeated. He hadn't kept them around; instead they had remained here while it was built. They had continued to do so after his defeat, doing what they had been asked - which was to look after his property.

"Yes sir?" said the female, House-Elf, who was dressed in a black, closed winter cloak. They had been dressed like that when he arrived, he presumed they had made it themselves or conjured it.

"I have a very important task for you," said Voldemort, his red eyes gleaming, unable to help himself. Soon….very soon he would find out if he was right or not. He knew he was he wasn't the smartest wizard to grace Hogwarts walls for nothing, beating most of Albus Dumbledore's scores in the process. Considering he'd known nothing about Hogwarts until he was eleven, and Dumbledore had been in the wizarding world his entire life - it had left him feeling smug even if he hated the blasted manipulative, nosy old fool.

"What can Amita do?" she asked eagerly, proud to serve her Master in any way he needed.

"Go to number four Privet Drive, unseen, and bring our new…guest to the dungeons. He will be the only magical wizard on the premises, bring me Harry Potter." said Voldemort, his voice becoming taut and even more demanding if possible.

"Yes sir," said Amita, not showing any reluctance, she lived to serve her Master and would do anything he asked.

The House-Elf Apparated directly into the smallest bedroom, staring directly into the vibrant pained green eyes. With quick movements, especially for a House-Elf, she hooked her fingers into his clothes and teleported him away. She didn't even remain for a second before he popped away out of the dungeons to inform her Master she had succeeded.

* * *

There managed to get something out, it was extremely hard to write this chapter...no underage means this is going to have to be spread out...like big time! so will Tom begin to waver and try and recruit Harry to his side? wearing him down, finding out information on everyone causing Harry more and more emotional upheaval? will it work? or does Harry already know everything causing Voldemort to curse in exasperation? not wanting to kill harry until he's heard the prophecy at least or will they both discard it? will harry ever be returning to Hogwarts? or will he be stuck under voldemorts dungeons? will it be Dobby that helps him get away? or will Voldemort let him go just before the order show up for him? preventing Harry from speaking about anything? using the bond between them to ensure it? will Voldemort become more sane around Harry and realize he has to reconnect with at least one of his horcruxes to keep his sanity from slipping? will harry remain his horcux? or will Voldemort successfully remove it from Harry? R&R


	5. Chapter 5

**Embracing His True Self **

**Chapter 5 **

**For the purpose of this story Bartemius Crouch Senior wasn't killed - merely stunned and transfigured into a bone before being placed in the grounds…Remember Barty Jr wasn't interrogated so this is how I decided to have it go out of convenience more than anything.**

**Confusion and Rage**

* * *

Harry grunted when he landed on his backside, his green eyes wide as he looked around his new surroundings. Swallowing thickly, he was in a dungeon; whatever would happen soon, wouldn't be good he knew that. The question was where exactly was he? Malfoy Manor? Draco Malfoy had gone on about it often enough or rather bragged about his home. As if nobody else had Manor's in the magical world, seriously, he was an idiot. Three walls and one cage wall with a door, locked, he realized as he pushed it for confirmation. Surprisingly there was a bed at the side, a small one to be sure and a toilet. Harry screwed up his nose, the thought of doing the toilet in that was humiliating. There was a window barred of course, above the toilet he could if he wanted to open it he realized as he climbed up to investigate it. He left it open and walked back to the other side.

Craning his neck to see down the corridor, he found he couldn't do that and keep his glasses on. There certainly wasn't any point to doing it without them since he couldn't see squat without them. It didn't help that they weren't the right prescription for him either. It was better than not being able to see at all, so he didn't complain. Listening intently he heard nothing, where had that House-Elf dumped him? Sighing in agitation he stalked up and down the cell worry churning in his gut. It did pass his observation that the damn cell was bigger than his bedroom - irony abound he thought chuckling bitterly.

Dumbledore obviously hadn't thought about House-Elves kidnapping him from Privet Drive. Which should have dawned on him really, since Dobby had been in his house, even performed magic. A frown worked its way onto his face, had the House-Elf Apparating into Privet Drive tripped the underage wards? No it couldn't have, otherwise it would have been alerted the second Dobby appeared, but nothing had happened until Dobby had actually levitated the cake on the Masons.

Would the Order know of his disappearance? Or would they only realize once he failed to write them? Three days then, before they would realize. That was if they even bothered, they were probably too busy doing stuff to try and stop Voldemort - he assumed anyway he wasn't sure. He knew nothing of what was going on, since his friends hadn't written to him yet and probably had no intentions of doing so either. The Order watching over him outside wouldn't realize either, since he rarely made an appearance outside. He'd done all the gardening the first day back, before his uncle had ladled into him leaving him bruised. He wouldn't let the Order see him until they'd disappeared if he hadn't been kidnapped.

Instead Death Eaters were going to see him like this; his only consolation was they wouldn't automatically think it was his family. They weren't watching him as closely as the Order was which irked him something rotten. Voldemort had said he was watched closer than he thought; unfortunately the bastard hadn't lied about anything as far as he knew. He had no reason to unfortunately, the bloody git hated him and wanted to see him dead as soon as possible for reason he didn't even know. If it was true, did it mean they knew how he was really treated anyway? That sent a shiver of dread down his spine, he didn't like to think they would continue to send him back if they did. They were supposed to be the light side, if they let children be abused then what really made them different from the dark side?

Exertion made Harry sit down on the bed, he was still injured after all his ribs were almost making him double over. Hoisting himself further onto the bed, leaning against the wall, ignoring the grumbling complaints that his stomach made for food. Well at least he was looking at four different walls here; Hedwig had been out so she wasn't stuck in her cage. He didn't want to imagine what his Uncle would have done to her if she'd hooted at all hours to get out. He hoped she had the sense to stay away from here; he didn't want her getting killed. Hedwig was really smart, and had been able to find him anywhere - hopefully here wasn't one of those places.

Inhaling sharply, choking as he realized exactly what was happening, his scar was prickling ominously. Odd it wasn't the same burning agony he'd experienced weeks ago at Voldemort's rebirth. Rather it was the same prickly feeling he'd had when he was eleven. What Harry did not realized was the Horcrux was reacting to Voldemort's intentions, so during his first year it hadn't hurt because killing him hadn't been Voldemort's primary objective. No getting the Philosopher stone had been his primary goal, the fact Quirrell had tried to strangle him aside, and it's why the scar had begun to burn so badly. Harry's blood protection had killed Quirrell if anyone had thought to wonder…why would his blood protection cause him so much pain when Quirrell touched him? Simply put it shouldn't have - it didn't it was reacting to Voldemort trying to kill himself or part of himself.

Voldemort was here, and without his wand - he was a sitting duck. It seemed at long last as if his stubborn luck had run out. Harry's heart pounded steadily fiercer each step he heard Voldemort taking, surprisingly the scar didn't flare up again other than the earlier prickling. It was as it was just letting him know Voldemort was close now. Not that it would matter, surely he couldn't survive another Killing Curse? He didn't relish finding out.

"It looks like I'm not the only one you piss off, Potter." said Voldemort, gazing at the teenager who was beaten and bruised. He was slightly surprised, after all the Order kept an eye on the boy, surely they wouldn't allow him to come to harm? Evidently that wasn't the case, and it was obviously Muggles that had done it, no wizard would bother using their hands in such an insipid display.

"Miss me?" grinned Harry, cockily, quite successfully changing the subject and averting it. His grin slightly lopsided with the swollen red sore courtesy of a punch by his uncle earlier that week.

"For a boy who could be killed any second, you are either stupid or think to highly of yourself." hissed Voldemort, glaring at the boy in warning through blood red eyes. Potter didn't need to know as of right now he had no intentions of killing him.

"Might as well go out with a bang don't you think?" sneered Harry, watching Voldemort like he was a poisonous snake ready to strike - a fair comparison right now especially considering he looked like one.

Quicker than lightening, Voldemort had his wand pointed at the teenager and uttered "Stupefy!" and Harry hindered by his injuries couldn't move in time. The red spell hit him full force, stunning him and leaving him at the mercy of Lord Voldemort - knowing what was going on around him and not able to move or defend himself.

Voldemort unlocked the cell door and approached the teenager, irritated that he had the boy at his mercies and couldn't kill him. He was so irritating, and damn it he wasn't used to people talking to him that way. He was the most powerful wizard in the world and he deserved respect. Every teenager would wet themselves if they found out they were standing before Lord Voldemort! With the exception of this one it seemed he was too damn mouthy for words. There was obviously more to him than met the eye, the way he acted directly contracted everything he'd learned about the boy so far.

Staring into blazing green eyes, he began to realize this boy didn't fear death. He was the exact opposite of himself; he feared death more than anything else. Perhaps that's why the boy had been destined to defeat him, not something he could do if he was one of his Horcruxes. He would need to keep him safe, out of harms way, one piece of his soul had already been destroyed he couldn't risk any others. If he was, which he was about to find out for sure.

"Praecantatio summa subrigo sanctificavi te exhibeas nobis!" chanted Voldemort, keeping his hissing to a minimum not wanting to interfere with the spell he was casting on Potter. Almost immediately after he stopped, he saw a halo representing Potter's magical core, even just at the age of fourteen he was powerful. He'd known that, but to see it for himself…to know Potter was equal to him in magical strength burned him strongly. Then another halo emerged, just as strong but definitely not Potter's magical signature…no it was one very familiar to him since it was his own.

The results are never immediate, unless it had been cast on him once before. Which meant someone had cast this on Potter in the past, which means someone might know he was already a Horcrux unless they assumed he'd just gotten some of his magic. He could only think of one person who would want to do it, Dumbledore. Which meant it was bad news for him, the diary and this…his Horcruxes were in danger he had to move some of them or risk losing them. Not something he wanted, he had no idea what would happen to him if his Horcruxes began to be destroyed.

Staring at the boy, almost wishing he could just end the boy's life while he was defenceless. This chance wouldn't ever come again, no the boy was as sneaky as they came. He would try and get away, and there was only so much he could do to prevent it. Perhaps it was time to find out everything about Potter that he could, even the rumours and build up on it. Try and get the boy to join his side, it wouldn't be easy, after all he had killed the boy's parents. The chance was slim to none but he had to try, the boy was too slippery. He could get out of the most impossible situations completely intact. Cursing under his breath, he turned and stalked from the boy, slamming the cell door closed and locking it with three different charms. Purely as an afterthought he flicked his wand at the boy and left, non-verbally casting 'Finite Incantatem' at him.

Harry jumped from the bed so fast it almost left him light-headed. Confusion the most prominent feeling in him right now, why hadn't Voldemort killed him? He'd lay there, unable to move, completely defenceless and he hadn't killed him? Shivering in foreboding, feeling as though something was crawling up his spine. What the hell did Voldemort want from him if he wasn't going to kill him? Was he just playing a game? But why? What would he get out of it? Or was he simply waiting for his Death Eaters to get here and 'duel' him again. If that was the case it would be a pretty quick duel since he didn't have a wand on him. He felt like he'd had his arm cut off, not because he was in pain but because he was without his wand. It was still in the loose floorboard under his bed, keeping it safe from the Dursleys and to keep it nearby if anyone attacked. A lot of good that had done him, he'd been bloody kidnapped by Voldemort's House-Elf.

What had he done to him? He'd seen the halos surrounding him, he'd never heard of that spell before in fact he couldn't even remember half of what Voldemort had said. Biting his lip, wincing as he caught the sore spot, pressing his fingers to it he realized he'd caused it to bleed again. Wiping the blood down his clothes, he had on Mrs. Weasley's red jumper which was the warmest clothes he had. His trousers were far too big though, since they were his cousins cast offs. What if it had affected his magic? Cursing quietly wishing he knew what he had done, it was obvious he wouldn't find out any time soon. It was odd, there had been no taunting, not really anyway, no stories or trying to make him feel sorry for the git - he'd come to use that spell and that was it he realized quietly to himself.

Sighing softly, he climbed back onto the bed, feeling very lost and it made him feel vulnerable and he did not like that. Voldemort had always been predictable, and the fact he wasn't able to predict him left him highly agitated. He should just be glad the wizard hadn't tortured him really…but he felt wrong footed. Looking at the window he observed that it was still light outside, but he couldn't tell how early or late it was. Was this going to be his last day? Would he soon he killed by Voldemort? The unknown had him quite frankly worried.

Bunching up the pillow he lay himself down, staring at the ceiling like he would do at Privet Drive. He might as well rest his aching body as much as he could; no doubt someone would be down to torture him sooner or later. The fact that it hadn't happened yet aside, this was Voldemort he was talking about. Pressing his hand tenderly to his ribs, knowing despite the fact nothing was broken it would take weeks to heal then properly. He hated it, it was hindering his movement, and Voldemort wouldn't have been able to hit him with that first stunner if he had been in prefect health.

* * *

Jerking out of his stupor, Harry looked around noticing the House-Elf, a different one who definitely hadn't brought him here. He noticed the tray of food and he laughed, and laughed and continued to laugh even after the House-Elf squeaked and disappeared. The amusement didn't fade as he wheezed on the bed, trying to regain control of his equilibrium. His face was red as he tried to breath through the pain, until he lay there panting in exertion. Gulping nosily, he finally began breathing evenly, as he sat up and swung his legs over. Staring at the food, his stomach grumbled nosily as he shook his head.

His own relatives refused to feed him, yet here he was a captive of Lord Voldemort's and he was getting food? Poison wasn't Voldemort's style, if anything he wanted to be the one to kill him. Although there might be something more nefarious in the food, did he dare touch it? Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to the little window and noticed that darkness was beginning to creep up. It was nowhere near black outside yet, but he'd summarise it was around six maybe seven o'clock at night right now.

His gaze couldn't help but wander back to the tray of food, which was still piping hot, if the steam coming off it in waves was anything to go by. It had been over two weeks since he'd had anything substantial to eat, just the occasional cold tin of soup pushed through the flap, a lot of which he gave to Hedwig to keep her fit and strong. He would have never forgiven himself if anything happened to his familiar, his most faithful companion. It was little wonder his stomach felt like it was trying to rip itself out of his stomach to eat the food on the floor.

Cagily Harry slid off the bed, and over to the tray, touching it tentatively as if he suspected it would vanish as soon as he touched it. When nothing happened he slowly picked it up grunting as he did, would his ribs just hurry up and heal already? Sitting down in the middle of the bed, he placed the tray at the bottom. Sweet and sour chicken with rice, a goblet of orange juice, and what he suspected to be Jam Roly-Poly in custard. Suspected only since he'd never been allowed it, but he'd watched his cousin pig out on an entire tray full in one sitting. Hogwarts had never served anything like that, he suspected it was a bit too Muggle for their tastes, the fact Voldemort had it made him wonder. WHY!? Why the hell would Voldemort want such a Muggle food in his house? He hated Muggles didn't he? Didn't he? He'd killed that old man…but that might have only been because he discovered them and could have told everyone. No he could have simply Obliviated him there had been no reason to kill him.

Prodding at the food with the plastic fork, what did they think he was going to hurt himself? Or use it as a weapon? Well…the second one would have been a good idea. Harry picked up a bit of chicken and nibbled it softly, before placing the rest back on the plate. Tensing as if he suspected he would be in a world of pain. Yet nothing happened, if anything his stomach grumbled more fiercely at having the smell of food so close yet nothing in it. Obviously it wasn't poisoned or drugged, he was still hesitant about eating it though, and why would Voldemort feed him? Unless he wanted him in prefect health when he killed him.

There was nothing for it really; did it matter if it was poisoned? He was going to die either way right? He had no wand; he was stuck down in Voldemort's dungeons with no means of escape. Nobody would find out for days yet, plus he was so hungry, no that wasn't accurate he was completely ravenous. Picking up the goblet he took a sip, wetting his parched mouth at the same time waiting to see if anything happened. It didn't taste like it had anything in it, and the only tasteless and odourless potion he knew was Veritaserum. Poisons had a distinct smell to them didn't they? He wished he'd paid more attention to Potions now since it would have given him his answer.

Taking cautions into the wind, he decided to eat the food; he hadn't even eaten half of it when his stomach began to cramp violently. He was still starving, yet his stomach was protesting the influx of so much food. Harry didn't stop eating, he'd put up with a grumbling stomach and sore ribs for more than two weeks so he could handle a cramping stomach. It was the same every time he went back to Hogwarts after being deprived of proper food for near enough three months during the summer.

Looking down he could have sworn his stomach bloated with the amount of food he'd eaten. Guzzling down the last of the juice, he observed it filling back up amused. He left the dessert, at least for the moment, giving his body time to adjust to the large amount of food it had just ingested. The urge to eat it was strong…uncommonly strong he knew his own limits, but for some reason it was being overrode with the need to eat the sweet treat.

Picking up the plastic spoon, he dug into the dessert; it was sort of like the strawberry tarts he liked so much. "Ah, shit!" cursed Harry, his voice slightly slurred as the spoon fell with a thud into the nearly empty bowl. He had been drugged after all, not poisoned; no this was a sleeping potion if he had to guess…it certainly acted like the one he'd been given in the hospital wing nearing four weeks ago. This was his last thought before he fell into the arms of Morpheus not even able to get worked up or worried.

The dessert had been spelled to make him eat it. Harry had not been able to help himself.

* * *

Lord Voldemort made plans as soon as he'd finished his dinner and taken his potions, which invigorated him and enabled him to be able do what he needed to without getting exhausted. He felt infuriated with his constant need to rest; he just wanted to get back to normal as soon as possible. Unfortunately that was going to take a while, his new body was…fragile but at least he had a body and hands and the ability to move and eat himself. It still horrified him that he'd had to rely on Wormtail for help, when he could sense in his mind that all the rat had wanted to do was run. Part of him would have liked nothing more than to kill the rat, he was useless, and regretfully he couldn't do such a thing without cause.

No he had someone perfect in mind for his little trip, a vicious grin spread across his face and there was nobody more deserving. Striding though to the main room, which housed his throne and where his Death Eaters would stand when the time came to call them all once more.

"WORMTAIL!" hissed Voldemort, causing Peter to jump high in the air at the unexpected summoning.

"Yes Master?" snivelled the wizard, cowing before Lord Voldemort clearly terrified of him.

"Bring Crouch here immediately." demanded Voldemort, his red eyes flashing at the sight of the disgusting wizard. He would know which Crouch he was talking about, since Barty was already here. The House-Elves would ensure Potter wasn't disturbed by either of his Death Eaters. He didn't trust Pettigrew not to harm his Horcrux or Barty come to that, but time would come where he would need to tell them all Potter was off limits. They would listen to his House-Elves as if they were him; he knew that because Wormtail and Barty both knew the House-Elves couldn't lie about orders or being ordered.

"Yes Master," said Pettigrew Apparating immediately.

Voldemort waited impatiently for Pettigrew to return with the wizard, Barty had wanted to kill him but he had demanded otherwise. There was no telling when he could be useful, and here he was being just that. At least transfigured into something meant he couldn't get to anyone and blow his plans. Which he had nearly done so time and time again, as he adapted to the Imperius Curse, fighting it off. Just like his son had, admittedly a lot later than Crouch Senior had, but Senior had been in much better health than his son who had been incapacitated by Azkaban.

A few moments later Pettigrew returned with the 'bone' which he placed on the floor and backed away shakily. Lazily putting his wand hand out, he summoned the 'bone' having no intention of turning him back until he needed him. After all only one person would be able to get across in the boat.

"Remain here," hissed Voldemort, glaring at the wizard daring him to defy him, before Apparating away to the cliff beside Crystal Cave. A place he had come during his bleak childhood. A feral smirk appeared on his face when he remembered the looks on the idiot Muggles faces when he Apparated them here. Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, fifthly Muggles who had dare call him a freak, after that trip…needless to say they hadn't once spoken or looked at him again. Even now fifty years later it caused him immense satisfaction knowing he had put them in their true place.

Jumping from the cliff, he didn't do as everyone else would have and fall into the water; instead Lord Voldemort flew across the water and landed gracefully at the cave entrance. He didn't waste a second in going over to the 'hidden entrance' and piercing his thumb with a needle he had for just this occasion. One drop of his blood fell against the rocks, causing the entrance to give way.

Wandering over to the edge, his hand blindly sought something, once he had a grip of it; he began to pull the chain which shortly afterwards became visible. Magic did the rest as it began to pull the boat towards him; once it had 'docked' so to speak he stood in it, and began his journey to the other side. Unlike any other that would have travelled along here, he did not fear the Inferi since he had created them. One he was beside his Horcrux and the podium it stood on, he returned Bartemius Crouch Senior to his normal self thankfully he was alive, but not for much longer Barty would be disappointed not to see it. Casting the Imperius Curse on the weakened wizard, to make sure he didn't have any unsavoury surprises.

Flicking his wand he conjured a goblet out of thin air, before he began to dunk it into the potion and feed it to the willing wizard. Well in this state he was willing; with the curse on him he was guzzling it down greedily, not feeling any of its affects. Which wouldn't remain that way for long, Goblet after Goblet was poured down Bartemius' throat until at long last Voldemort was able to retrieve his Horcrux from within placing it safely within his cloak pocket. Removing the Imperius curse, Voldemort watched with great amusement as the wizard began to show the affects the potion had on him. Moaning in agony, screaming and pleading that he shouldn't have done it, wheezing and grasping at his throat as he became increasingly thirsty. The drive for water caused him to dive into the only source, the lake, hands immediately began to drag the wizard under, the wild scrambling for the side was for naught as the Inferi had too good a grip and he was soon immersed under the sea of water never to return. Bartemius Crouch Senior was now one of the un-dead an Inferi - unbeknown to Voldemort or even the dying Bartemius right now, that Regulus Black too had fallen prey to them as well.

The goblet was dropped with a clang as Voldemort began to make his way out of the cave. A short boat ride later had him at the entrance and flying over since he had placed wards up to prevent Apparation. Once he was at the cliff he Apparated back to his Manor, he would need to retrieve them all; he didn't want them out of his sight. He couldn't risk it, if there was even the possibility of Dumbledore knowing about their existence.

Sitting on his bed, he removed the locket from his cloak pocket before a frown worked its way onto his face. There was something missing, he couldn't feel his Horcrux or his magical signature on it. Baffled he opened it without really thinking and his red eyes widened in shock at the parchment imbedded inside of it. Hissing in fury, he opened up the parchment before he leapt up and a scream of rage tore out of him. He had been betrayed! Regulus Black had better be glad he was dead! His wand in hand he began to blast everything around him to smithereens unable to contain the lava filled fury bubbling inside of him. The urge to kill and curse everyone within distance of him was strong. Where was his Horcrux? Who had it? Who had Regulus Black told?

Terrified he quickly Apparated from his Manor again, going to the Gaunt resident to check up on his other Horcrux.

* * *

As I said earlier I decided not to have Crouch Sr dead so I could do this without killing off any Death Eaters :P which would have been amusing but I have my plans for them all even Pettigrew ;) so how will Voldemort get Harry on his side? will he realize Harry is abused and prove the Order knew this? using Figg and Doge as irrefutable proof that Dumbledore had known all along about his home life and refused to interfere? Will his friends be in Dumbledore's pocket? or is that too overdone? it is isn't it? hmm what else could be used to have Harry slowly begin to hate the light side...don't worry he wont automatically like Voldemort :) its going to take a long time for them to get together :D although even i'm not sure how that's going to happen :) I don't want to overuse the 'you killed my parents' but its going to happen unfortunately...i'll try and keep it at its minimum if you know a way for Harry to get over that i'm all ears :P oh and how to retrieve the Horcrux from Grimmauld Place without Harry :P will Voldemort let Harry go at the end of the summer or will he be imprisoned at the manor? but educated? even if he constantly tried and fails to get away? :) R&R please!


	6. Chapter 6

**Embracing His True Self **

**Chapter 6 **

**Dwelling On The Past **

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort or You-Know-Who, absently rubbed at his temples, where a gigantic headache was beginning to brew at the back of his eyes. He was sitting at the large ornate writing desk that sat at the left side of his room, near the roaring fire which the House-Elves had tended to not too long ago. He was meant to be writing missives to the vampire clan he was currently dealing with, since they only ventured out at night he had hoped to get it out within the hour. Not that they were affected by sunlight, but rather it irritated them and they preferred roaming at night as was their nature. His dealings with the Dark forces weren't going as smoothly as he hoped. The quill dropped from his fingers as he sighed resignedly, every Horcrux he'd been able to retrieve tonight was safely ensconced in his drawer next to him. With every single locking spell he knew, as well as one that required words to open it, and he had naturally chosen Parseltongue. Pretty much how Salazar Slytherin had protected his Chamber of Secrets. Although he used more than just 'open' that's for certain. He didn't know what it was, but since his return, since touching Potter he'd felt better than he had in a long time. Not physically but mentally and emotionally, but an emotional Dark Lord wasn't a good thing but the idea of going insane didn't appeal to him.

1979, a year, inconspicuous at that, but not completely, not to him. That was the year everything had gone downhill, when everything he had hoped to achieve had been threatened. It had pushed him over the edge, and with it everything had scattered into the winds. It was the year the Prophecy had been uttered, and apparently when his own Death Eaters, who had sworn eternal loyalty, had betrayed him. Regulus Black, despite the fact he did not normally mark anyone under the age of seventeen, once they were out of school, fully qualified, he had done so with the young Black. The wizard had revered him since childhood; his greatest desire had been to serve him, to be a Death Eater. He had sensed that, and he didn't need to wonder what had gone wrong, he had realized already that planning to kill unborn children had…shaken his followers. Regulus Black had been one of them evidently, he had gotten to his Horcrux and he realized there would be only one possibility for how that happened.

Kreacher, the Black House-Elf he had used to enact the safety of the cave for his Horcrux, he must have somehow survived. He had underestimated not only the House-Elf but his own enchantments, House-Elf magic but be able to get in and out of the cave despite his Anti-Apparation spells preventing such a thing happening. Kreacher must have revealed what they did, and Regulus Black must have been taken there - somehow someway Regulus Black had died there perhaps the Inferi had dragged him under? He didn't know, but he had realized Black was dead. Which meant the House-Elf must have his Horcrux; he hoped reverently that it was still whole, that the House-Elf hadn't managed to destroy his locket. The fact he did not know where it was worried him, especially with one part of his soul already destroyed thanks to Lucius' blunder. He couldn't afford any others to be destroyed, he refused to allow it.

Potter…Gaunt ring…Slytherin Locket….Hufflepuff Cup…Nagini…His Diary…The Diadem, which his House-Elves had retrieved, he had unknowingly actually had seven Horcruxes as he had wished all those years ago - for eleven years. Until the Diary had been destroyed, unless the House-Elf had found a way to destroy his locket. He refused to believe that was the case, but hadn't he already underestimated House-Elves? He refused to let it happen again. Where had the Black's lived again? A baffled frown worked its way onto his face, for the life of him he could not remember. His red eyes flashed, the _Fidelius charm _it was the only reason he would have forgotten, now why would such a charm be placed on the Black residence? Regretfully that meant even his spy would be unable to tell him of its location. Although his spy could look for it while there, but Severus was far too curious for his own good. The marks of a good spy, but he did not want anyone else knowing about the real way he had been able to achieve immortality.

Regulus' betrayal hit him harder than it should have; if he had been alive the traitor would have suffered the tortures of the damned. Sane or insane he didn't tolerate such actions, when he marked them he showed his trust in them, let them into his circle, and he'd let him down. He had been the perfect Death Eater, eager to prove himself; his own insanity had caused his…were there others who didn't wish to serve him now? Was there a way to regain that trust he had seemingly flippantly discarded in his desire to see the one potential that could destroy him defeated?

Two Horcruxes were still missing, he had Potter, the Gaunt ring, Nagini and his diadem, the locket was missing and the cup had been given to Bellatrix Lestrange. Hopefully she had been smart enough to hide it, he would get it back just as soon as he got her and the others liberated from Azkaban. If anything had happened to that cup…he would not be responsible for his actions, losing one was hard enough but two? Well needless to say someone would feel the full extent of his wrath and displeasure. Lucius had already been made aware of just how dissatisfied he was with him, but he was much too useful to permanently harm - not that he would really.

Against his will, his mind drifted to Potter, something was nagging at him, about the bruises and busted lip. The Order wouldn't have let anything happen to their precious 'saviour' who incidentally wouldn't be saving anyone. If something had and they'd slipped up why leave the wounds? Why not heal him? Surely Potter would have gone straight to them to complain? Or was he too embarrassed? Having been bested by a Muggle of all things? No, there was no way Potter had been bested by a filthy Muggle! He didn't even seem embarrassed by the fact he'd seen them. The boy had been as cocky as ever, defiant and damn it, he made the blood rush to through his veins in fury. He knew they were guarding the boy, Severus had said as such, but couldn't tell him who was. There was obviously more than just a few punches exchanged, the boy had difficulty moving, bruised ribs? Potter was fast, skilled at moving, a seeker without a broom, he'd had no problem outmanoeuvring him just a few weeks ago. He had not expected his first stunner to hit its target, no matter how quickly he'd drawn his wand to surprise him. Yet it had, the boy hadn't even moved from his position, so the likelihood of having damaged ribs as well was pretty high up. The potion he'd told the House-Elves to give to the boy would heal most of the damage; he couldn't have his Horcrux injured now could he? Or that's what he told himself, after all what other reason could he have for healing a boy that had caused him nothing but pain in his fourteen years of existence? Perhaps he should get his healer to look at Potter as well as Barty just to be sure.

Perhaps he should have Severus come to the manor tomorrow, that way he could finally sate his curiosity. Perhaps he could have some fun with the idiots who had dared to lay a finger on his Horcrux. After all he hadn't had any fun yet since his return…and that's probably what he needed. Some fun with idiotic Muggles who had no idea of who he was and what he was capable of. Filthy things, who thought they were so superior! Hating and fearing something beyond their comprehension.

They did not deserve to live, they were a danger to him, to wizards, and how many had died because of the blasted war the Muggles had started? Voldemort closed his mind off; he did not want to think on his childhood and his feeling of helplessness with the war going on around him... He was successfully as memories began to turn around in his mind. Thirteen years old he had been when the Muggle war had descended on them. He could remember begging Dumbledore to remain at Hogwarts…not wishing to return to the Muggle orphanage, to the bombs, the air raids, the terror of not knowing what was going to happen any moment. Not knowing when he would next get a decent meal, since the Muggles had been on rationing. Having a wand and being restricted, not allowed to use it if anything happened…not knowing any spell that could possibly save him from the Muggle bombs. A shudder stole over Voldemort's features, regaining control of himself; he tightened the cloak around him, insisting it had been the chill. He no longer feared the Muggles; he would make sure no wizarding child had to fear for their life once he had control over the magical world. He would do it, and his Horcrux would be kept safe and out of the war, he would find a way to ensure it, Potter would not be going anywhere.

Tiredness seeped into his bones, sighing softly; realizing the letter to the vampires would just have to wait. At least Fenrir had responded to his letter, since he wasn't marked he couldn't be summoned. Unfortunately the wolf in Fenrir would never bear the thought of being marked by another. Truth be told Voldemort didn't think it was just Fenrir's wolf, but the man himself. Fenrir hated most wizards, not that he could blame him really. Since nearing all Wizards and Witches were terrified and would kill Fenrir without a seconds notice. At least those in the Ministry would, the rest of the population would be frozen in terror. Purely the Ministry's fault, they'd gone too far in trying to make Fenrir out to be some vicious notorious werewolf beast that killed indiscriminatingly. Trying to bolster the Ministry's image, it had back fired, Fenrir and grown bigger and stronger than they'd anticipated. It was wrong on so many levels, to hunt down a nine year old child, blame him for things beyond his control. Stating he purposely put his way in front of people's window and turned children and whisking them off to raise them away from their wizarding parents. It was laughable, after all Fenrir had been nine years old when the Ministry released the information on that. Just because he'd sought out revenge on Remus Lupin. Unfortunately the reputation was complete, he was a savage werewolf, who bit innocent children, who liked biting and eating human flesh...just a bit too much.

He was one of the few who hadn't been fearful of Fenrir, he hadn't had a reason to be worried or fearful, and why should he be? He had magic he could defend himself if it came to it. It was Fenrir's disgust and wanted status that had drawn him to his side. Fenrir may look rather old even if he was twenty nine or thirty years of age, but Voldemort was actually forty years older than him, with the same ideals it wasn't hard to get on - it had been inevitable. He would soon be celebrating his seventieth birthday…he certainly felt that age right now.

Standing up he walked away from the parchment, ink and demands he was trying to make. Slipping into the warm covers courtesy of a spell, sleep was quick at claiming him not that it was a peaceful one. This was nothing knew to Tom Marvolo Riddle, in fact it would have been odd for him to have pleasant dreams since he didn't have them, period.

* * *

**The Next Day - Spinners End - Severus Snape **

Cursing quietly, as the Mark flared to life, just as he was in the delicate stages of a potion. Pursing his lips, he wondered if it was worth the potential punishment. The Voldemort he had known best wouldn't have tortured him for being late, at least not after he got into the inner circle, which was quite quickly thanks to his abilities. Not only could he brew potions, duel but he created his own spells, and that was something his Lord had admired. Then came the year two years before his defeat, the Dark Lord had demanded that he gain Dumbledore's trust. If there was one thing he regretted, and not just because of Lily's death either, was telling the Dark Lord the prophecy. He'd noticed an immediate change in him, Lucius hadn't, and he'd been with him. He didn't think there was a Death Eater out there who hadn't been praying for something to happen. They all knew the Dark Lord had gone down a darker path than they were capable of. At least most of them, he thought to himself, thinking on Bellatrix Lestrange. He had no doubt she'd been the one mostly participating in the fate that befell the Longbottoms. The brothers were more laid back, had agreed with many others that things needed to change. Bellatrix however, seemed to relish in their Lord's madness, his bloodthirsty nature.

Relaxing slightly, he had time, if he had been at Hogwarts he would have only just begun to walk out of his Quarters. It would take him ten minutes to get OUT of Hogwarts and further ten minutes to get off the grounds. Albeit the Dark Lord probably knew he wasn't at Hogwarts. He preferred the solitude that he could get here, away from Dumbledore's prying eyes. The old fool never ventured to his house. In fact he rarely left Hogwarts, if he did leave it would be to go to Hogsmeade or Grimmauld Place and he got there by going through the Floo Network. He never walked or went anywhere unless he absolutely had to.

He'd known he would be busy but Dumbledore was taking it too far, it had been nearing four weeks since his Lord had returned. Yet he had been at five Order meetings, he was at the end of his tether, they did nothing but procrastinate, worry and uselessly blab whatever came into their insipid heads. Mostly about Potter, finding new members, keeping the secret and trying to get word out about his Lord when the rest of the world was content to think Potter was lying. They had succeeded in gaining a few new Order members, the younger yet eldest generation of the Weasley's, Bill and Charlie, two new Auror's Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks. Bill and Charlie were powerful, so that was concerning, as was Kingsley Shacklebolt, he was a very shrewd man. Tonks was an idiot as far as he was concerned, even under disguise he'd know her the second she moved. She couldn't keep on her own two feet, without knocking something over or tripping up her own feet. If there was anyone that made him need too curse and scream, it was Alastor 'Mad-eye' Moody. How he wanted to kill the old man, and nothing would have given him greater pleasure than to take him down. Perhaps his Lord would give him the opportunity to do as such if it arose.

Nobody listened to Moody when he said 'once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater' and it would be their downfall - he hoped.

Stirring the potion, he removed the rod, cleaned it before placing it on the table. Casting a stasis charm on the cauldron, freezing it at the correct time. Nodding in satisfaction, knowing it would be fine when he went back to it, he certainly wasn't going to waste the ingredients that have gone into it already. Grabbing the potions that had already been made for his Lord, he shrank them and placed them in his cloak. Not even pausing from one movement to the next, he Apparated to where the Dark Mark was guiding him. The quiet tranquil, small but elegant manor (at least compared to Malfoy Manor) before him. Something he wouldn't have expected his Lord to have.

His impassive masks went up, so far the Dark Lord had seemed patient, and more like his old self, but Severus did not want to get his hopes up. How long before he began obsessing over Harry Potter? Before it was all he would think about. He hoped the way his Lord was being was how he would remain. Perhaps hoping that being nearly defeated, practically dead for thirteen years would have given him patience.

Walking forward towards the meeting room, the doors automatically opened for him, he stalked through. "My Lord," said Severus in his dulcet tones.

"Sit, Severus." stated Voldemort, watching his spy closely, was he one of those who had wished for his death? Had he been glad when his downfall had been met at the hands of Harry Potter? Or had he bid his time, praying he returned? He would never know unless he managed to get through Severus' mental shields. Unfortunately he didn't even think such a thing was possible, Severus was admittedly brilliant at what he did, everything he did he mastered beautifully. Even the ability to fly, like himself, all it had taken was three lessons and Severus was flying like a duck took to water. Severus had impressed him he had to admit.

"Thank you, My Lord." said Severus, sitting in the allotted seat. The Dark Lord had forgone his usual throne; instead he was sitting at a table with chairs - like an equal. Something he hadn't done for nearing two years before his defeat. It furthered his hope that his Lord wouldn't obsess over Harry Potter. Of could Severus had to think that and have his Lord ask…

"Has Potter left the vicinity of Privet Drive at all in the past two weeks?" demanded Voldemort, his red eyes noticing a flash of something he couldn't decipher in Severus' eyes.

"From what they've been saying no, he hasn't even left the house," admitted Severus, displeased that his Lord was once again becoming obsessed with Harry bloody Potter. "They've even complained that the letters don't 'sound' like Potter, then they get into an argument about how witnessing the death of a fellow classmate would change him." Severus couldn't help himself, he had to roll his eyes - it was absurd.

"And your opinion?" enquired Voldemort, his voice cautious now.

Severus snorted in derision, "None of them even know the boy, never mind well enough to send letters to. Black is the only one that could have a clue, but he hasn't said anything at the meetings. Merely complained about being stuck indoors and not being able to write to his godson." here his lips curled, he loathed Black.

"And why wouldn't he be able to write to Potter?" Voldemort was quite frankly baffled, but he didn't show it.

"I believe Dumbledore has asked them not to, if what I overheard was correct, he believes they might be intercepted." said Severus sighing in vexation. He was very good at listening in on conversations, especially when he stuck to the shadows and was overlooked.

"Severus…do you still hold to the eternal loyalty you promised me upon becoming one with the fold?" demanded Voldemort, trying to catch Severus off guard. He knew though that it would take a lot more than just that question to catch Severus out.

"Always, my Lord, I do not discard my word so easily." said Severus, his exasperated posture no longer present. Instead he was sitting facing his Lord with a serious expression on his face, his eyes never once wavering from the red ones before him.

Voldemort stared straight into Severus' eyes, could he trust him with such a momentous task? After all he had assumed he could trust Regulus Black as well as Lucius, both of them had hurt him in different ways. Would Severus react the same way as Regulus had upon finding the lengths he'd taken to achieve immortality? He had no other way of achieving the goal, which was to retrieve his real Horcrux. Since he couldn't remember where the property was or what it was called, he had to rely on someone who knew where the property was. Severus wouldn't be able to tell him; regretfully it looked as though he may not have an option.

"I have a very important task for you, even though it might not seem like it." stated Voldemort eventually, having no choice but to trust his spy. "It will be tricky as well, since nobody can know about it."

"Of course, my Lord." replied Severus, waiting patiently for what his Lord would ask of him.

"There is a Slytherin locket I require in the Order headquarters, Regulus Black took what did not belong to him," hissed Voldemort, his anger still brewing dangerously under the surface. "You can leave the duplicate in its place; it can be summoned and is not a danger to you. I want you to come here as soon as you have retrieved it." that said, Voldemort removed the piece of jewellery from his robes, his long thin almost skeletal hands handed over the large locket and thick heavy pendant that was attached to it. It didn't look like much, but it was Salazar Slytherins pendant, one of the most powerful wizards ever remembered. Something that was by right, his and his alone! He was the last descendant; he had made sure of that. Everyone that had left him in that orphanage thinking he had no family paid dearly, his uncle…his filthy Muggle grandparents and father even though they weren't the Slytherin descendants at least not by blood.

Severus accepted the heavier than suspected Slytherin pendant, his mind whirling a mile a minute. Why would Regulus Black steal the locket? He couldn't say his Lord had killed him, since he too had been disconcerted by his continued absence, in the rare moments he wasn't obsessing over who had the potential to destroy him of course. Could he still be alive but in hiding? A body had never been recovered if he remembered correctly. His family hadn't even known what had happened, but the general consensus was that he'd gotten in too deep and wanted out. That he had been killed by a Death Eater on his Lord's orders. Which wasn't true, the Dark Lord hadn't ordered such a thing, and Regulus had been an avid supporter, he hung on to the Dark Lord's every word. Admittedly he ha been like everyone else by the end, wanting his Lord back to how he was before the Prophecy interrupted their strategic moves. Had he been more desperate than the others? More shocked and disgusted? Not that he had seen, but he hadn't been close to Black, they were merely acquaintances if they could actually call them as such. It was a long time to remain in hiding, without money and without being spotted even once. No there was no way Regulus Black was alive, so what happened to him he wondered?

"Your potions, my Lord." said Severus, placing the locket in his pocket and removing the shrunk crate of Potions and returning them to their normal size.

"Any news on the Order?" asked Voldemort, refusing to dwell on Potter and the implications until he was alone. Or as alone as he could get with Pettigrew skulking around somewhere.

"They have a few new recruits, and from what I understand they have an additional two considering their proposal." stated Severus grimly. "Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Charlie and Bill Weasley have joined and those they have considering is a disgusting thief Mundungus Fletcher and Sturgis Podmore. They are doing nothing more than guarding Potter, trying to convince people you are back and getting to those who they consider worthy of joining their order." yes their order, he didn't consider it as his. They were just a bunch of idiots trying to play hero, for a cause they did not understand. They were basically in his opinion, running around like a bunch of headless chicken. They brought nothing worthy of value to the table, only he did, or so they should think, he only revealed what his Lord wished him to.

"I see," replied Voldemort, he would have to get Lucius to do a background search on all of them; he wanted to know every little detail about them. "You may go, Severus." added Voldemort absently.

"My Lord," said Severus respectfully, inclining his head before he stood up and departed, hope blooming further. The Dark Lord did seem much better, it relieved him greatly.

Voldemort however, wasn't relieved he was perplexed. If Potter hadn't been out of his damn house…how the hell did he end up black and blue? He had always been extremely smart, and it didn't take him long to come to the only natural conclusion one could reach. Abuse, his red eyes flashed in fury, how he hated Muggles. Why would Potter fight for the light side if he had been abused? It made no sense to him whatsoever, why fight for the Muggles who hated and hurt him? The boy was a conundrum. He would get Grant to run a full history diagnostic on him, that way he would have his answer for sure. He needed to find a way to ensure the boy couldn't run could not get away from the manor.

Grant would be here today again, so he had to do something with Potter before then, either way the boy wasn't going to cooperate. Nothing he did ever cowed the boy, threatening, torture, it was as if he was completely fearless. It would be such a Gryffindor trait if it wasn't so damn Slytherin. He would find out for sure, although if his suspicions were confirmed he honestly didn't know what he would do.

"Master's breakfast," said the House-Elf placing the large tray in front of him, before disappearing without saying anything further.

Letting out a frustrated breath, everything was taking forever; patience had never been a virtue that he possessed. That and he was very easy too anger, he had often wondered if it was anything to do with the strength of his magic. He hadn't been curious enough to investigate; he had other things more worthy of his attention. Plucking two potions from the crate Severus had brought, he downed them in one go before eating his breakfast. He had some research to do; he couldn't allow his Horcrux to escape.

* * *

**Two Hours Later **

A sadistic smirk stole across the Dark Lord's features, if anyone had seen it they surely would have been running for the hills. The old book he had on his desk, lying innocently enough, but the words on the page were less than innocent. Were not meant for pure intentions, at least they hadn't been created for that. No they had been created by a Roman leader who happened to be a wizard of course, wanting to keep track of his people within his estate. Of course he wouldn't put half of what Claudius had put into them.

"Armillam!" murmured Voldemort under his breath, flicking his wand in the directions dictated in the book. Watching as pure magic created a strap of what appeared to be bendable plastic, but he knew it would attach itself like a second skin. Un-removable and impenetrable nothing would remove it, not even all the Wandless magic in the world. He smirked at the colour it had chosen to come out, green and silver, Slytherin colours he wondered what Potter would think of that.

"Confidunt in vicibus suis," chanted Voldemort, watching as it glowed gold before settling once more. "Limes motus!" again it glowed gold. "Sensus." he added for the final time, watching in satisfaction at his finished masterpiece. Once it attached itself there would be no removing it, well not unless he did, which he wouldn't.

Looking at the time, he realized he had spent longer than he thought on it. Grant would be here any minute now; it was time for this to do its job.

Potter was not going to be happy, but it wasn't his job to make him as such. If his home life had been as bad as he suspected well…this was probably paradise to the irritating slip of a boy. Not that he wanted it to be paradise for the boy; it was his and his alone. Damn it, why did Potter have to be his Horcrux? Why did fate like screwing with him? Anyone else would have been preferable, Potter should be happy at least - it had saved him from death.

* * *

Okay it needs to be decided now whether you would like Harry to attend Hogwarts after the summer...and maybe have him dragged out after they find out about the Blood Quill and kill her? or have him remain at the manor and have to learn from books! would you like to see the blood wards settle in on the manor protecting both Voldemort and Harry recognizing them as having the same blood? after all they are cousins distant as they may be AND he used his blood for his resurrection? will Voldemort kill the Dursley's or will it only occur after he begins to have feelings for Harry :D :P will Harry find out the Ministry sent Dementors after him? will that be the deciding factor in making him snap? Will Severus be able to get the locket without trouble or will he be caught? R&R Please


	7. Chapter 7

**Embracing His True Self **

**Chapter 7**

**Embarrassment **

* * *

Harry murmured quietly, as the Dreamless Sleeping potion began to work its way out of his system. His face was peaceful, something that anyone rarely got to see. Harry's dreams were normally plagued with nightmares; thankfully for most part he wasn't vocal when he was asleep. So most people didn't even realize Harry had nightmares, which was fine by him, the less weaknesses they knew the better in his opinion. The Daily Prophet had already ripped him to shreds this year, including the fact he had 'seizures' Harry's peaceful green eyes blinked open, a yawn breaking loose until Harry sat up abruptly, ignoring the pain igniting in his ribs, the serene mood vanishing like a boat in the Bermuda Triangle. He'd been bloody drugged! He knew he shouldn't have eaten that food, although he had to admit it had been delicious.

Why was Harry's main concern right now, why had he been drugged? What had they done to him? Nothing made sense anymore, why wasn't Voldemort trying to kill him? The unknown was quite frankly freaking him out. His usual encounters usually only lasted a little while. Go somewhere, be threatened, nearly killed, thwart him, get to spend time with Poppy in the Hospital wing. After a few days depending if he had been unconscious, go to a feast and be patted on the head like a 'little good boy'. Harry's lip curled just thinking about it, if Dumbledore thought he didn't know about his manipulations he was an idiot. He was meant to be sorted into Slytherin for a reason, his self preservation had kicked in, and he'd done what he had to - to blend in amongst everyone. Just then an urgent need made itself known, oh he shouldn't have drank that juice, and he badly needed to pee. Grimacing at the toilet he groaned, cursing violently, if he didn't do the toilet he would pee himself and that's the last thing he wanted. Who knows how long he'd be down here? He'd rather not sit in his own soiled clothes.

Harry listened for any sound whatsoever, before edging towards the toilet, they were doing this to torture him before he's killed, he just knew it. Gritting his teeth, he hastily did the toilet sighing in relief as he did so, before climbing back on the bed. When he did, he left something on his leg, confused he hoisted his leg onto the mattress and arched it to the side. His heart pounded desperately in his ribcage, what the hell was it? Prodding at it cautiously, he yanked at it nothing happened. The green and silver band just refused to budge, his fingers trailed around the length of it, looking for an opening but he found none. His mouth was dry, closing his eyes he opened them again, fire in his emerald depths as he continued to try and remove the thing around his ankle.

His head jerked up when he heard a loud clanging, he held his breath wondering who it was. It obviously wasn't Voldemort otherwise his scar would have been burning by this…so who was it? Death Eaters? Surprise flashed through his green eyes when the snake faced git made an appearance, why hadn't his scar burned? His brow furrowed in confusion, even as his hands continued to try and remove the band. Glaring fiercer at the red eyes that lit up in amusement, at his expense no doubt.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" snarled Harry, unable to keep his mouth shut. There was no golden boy pretence to put up here. Neither did survival seem to be a thing he cared for, as he spoke to the Dark Lord with bite nobody else would have gotten away with. Especially if the way the wizard beside him reacted, he'd inhaled sharply in shock no doubt at his words. His green eyes sparked with feral amusement when the red eyes flared with anger, watching as Voldemort's hands clenched in an attempt to keeping his calm.

Grant watched the Dark Lord out of the corner of his eyes, extremely surprised. Never in all the years, when he had served the Dark Lord, when he needed it, had he seen such restraint on his part. He had expected the boy, no teenager to be writhing under the Cruciatus Curse by now. By Merlin the boy had more guts than the entire Dark Lord's army combined. Never had he seen such blatant disrespect spat at him before. Everyone trembled and bowed before Lord Voldemort, it seemed this young boy was an exception to that rule. Keeping his face impassive, he waited, on what he wasn't sure.

Voldemort opened the cell door, his red eyes never removed from Harry's, his wand held loosely in his fingers. Harry however, wasn't fooled by the seemingly calm display of casualness. Voldemort could strike lightening last; he had reflexes that even if it burned to admit, that Harry was envious of. Harry remained on the bed, his eyes never wavering from the pair, keeping them in sight which was easy to do from where he sat. Was this it? Would he be breathing his last here and now? It was unlike Voldemort, he liked an audience, and he'd proved that just a few weeks ago. Unless he didn't want to be embarrassed again, he couldn't see how that would happen; he didn't have a wand or means to protect himself. Why bother with the band? What fucking game was Voldemort playing? Well he refused to play along; he wouldn't act like a kicked pup! He wasn't scared of death, he'd almost died in the chamber, had felt himself dying, poisoned by a basilisk.

Jutting up his chin defiantly, the urge to cross his arms against his chest was strong but he didn't want to leave himself vulnerable in case he attacked. No, he would put up a fight, even if it was a useless one, just like it had been at the graveyard, again surviving by sheer dumb luck.

Harry arched away slightly, defensively, when the unnamed wizard knelt on the floor. Harry gave him a quick confused look before he scooted back on the bed a bit, so he could keep a better eye on the pair of them. What the fuck was going on? His gaze switched back to the wizard watching him remove a potions bag? Unrolling it and leaving it sitting there before sitting on the bed next to him.

"Drink this," said Grant, his tone soothing as he was speaking to a reluctant child. He couldn't help but grin slightly, seeing the look of incredulity that passed over Harry's face. Oh yes, he knew who the boy was, and was very surprised he was still breathing. To make matters even more curious, he was being asked to do a full check up on the boy? Well at least his job was never boring it seemed. "It will not harm you, surely you've taken it before?" questioned the healer.

Harry's lips disappeared, his nose flared in anger, he did not like being played. Yet his mind whispered to him why they would give him a choice? Why not just do what they'd done before? Put it in his food and be done with it? He had no idea what the bloody potion was, and he didn't want to find out. The thought of being bound and forced to take it was even less appealing. He knew whatever happened; he only had the illusion of willingness. Gritting his teeth, he looked ready to rip someone's head off.

"You've never taken this potion before have you?" said Grant, becoming quite alarmed, all children going through Hogwarts was supposed to get this potion. It seemed his lord might have other motives about this entire thing. He wasn't stupid enough to ask, that's putting it bluntly. "I am a healer, Harry, I am oath bound never to harm another, and this potion will not hurt you in any way."

"I only have your word for that," sneered Harry, pondering inwardly if it was true. The Muggles did something similar, a Hippocratic Oath; it didn't stop them from murdering people. The news showed horrible things doctors and nurses did, but with magic…was it truly binding?

Seeing that his Lord was loosing patience, he uncorked the potion and took a sip of it himself. Showing the boy that it wouldn't harm him, nobody would be stupid enough to take a sip of a potion that could potentially harm them. "See?" added Grant, handing the potion out.

"You could have taken the antidote before coming in," stated Harry, still not trusting them, he never would.

"Just take the damn potion," hissed Voldemort, his red eyes flaring as his patience dimmed. The urge to curse the boy was stronger than ever, in fact he was fingering his wand ready to cast the Cruciatus curse. "Or I will have him pour it down your incapacitated throat."

Grant winced even if that anger wasn't directed at him; the magic pouring of him was terrifyingly dark in its nature. He glanced at Harry to find him not even slightly bothered. He was beginning to think the boy had a death wish, how could he sit there calmly with this wizard's ire so solely focused on him? The others would be prostrating at his feet by now, begging for forgiveness doing whatever they had to just to make it better.

"Cr-" snapped Voldemort, not getting to finish before the boy spoke.

"Alright, alright, fuck, I'll take the damn potion!" snapped Harry, give in today, fight and live for tomorrow. If he was going to be in pain he'd rather not have the Cruciatus Curse after-affects thrumming through him too. The pain he remembered had been intolerable. Like the time his uncle and Cousin had stamped on his arm and leg, kicking him in the stomach and head rendering him unconscious within minutes. That had been before Hogwarts, when his accidental magic had Apparated him onto the school roof. Grabbing the vial from the wizard, glaring at everything furious that he was being backed into a corner. His hand clenched around the vial as he gritted his teeth again. He'd rather lose the battle than lose the war; he would find a way out of this damn place. To do that he needed to be as pain free as possible. If he could accidentally Apparate when he was younger, maybe he could do it again, or some sort of accidental magic to get him the fuck out of here. A snide voice reminded him he'd just end up back in another prison - the Dursley's. It was better than dying, no, no it wasn't really, he was tired of constantly fighting, constantly defending himself and exhausted of being betrayed and hurt by everyone around him.

The vial must have been unbreakable; since he was clutching it so hard it should have shattered the glass into his hand. Was he really going to do this? He must be off his rocker, sitting there clutching it in his hand he realized he couldn't do it. He refused to bow to the Dursley's, he refused to truly mould to the saviour image everyone wanted. He damn well wasn't going to bow to Voldemort, he could curse him if he liked. He twitched and was brought out of his thoughts with a murmured spell, and then he felt it, the alarming sensation of something suddenly hitting his stomach.

Looking down he noticed the vial was empty, glaring at the wizard seething with fury. He hadn't realized there was a spell that could put potions into his stomach, even after all his time in Hospital wing. Then again he wouldn't be would he? They would have been administered when he was bloody unconscious. Why hadn't he done that to begin with? His scorching glare didn't let up, not even when the wizard began chanting - it just made him tense up even further coiled ready to strike. If he thought he could get out of here, he would have struck out, but with Voldemort there he knew he'd be on his back quicker than lightening. If he wanted to get away, he would need to do it when he was alone. He didn't care about the consequences anymore, he would do magic if it saved his life - even if he was expelled.

Then just like that both wizards began exiting the cell, Voldemort didn't let him out of his sight until the door banged shut and was locked with magic again. His hands clenched as he watched them, the urge to punch that smug look on Voldemort's face was strong. Once they were gone, Harry punched the mattress repeatedly, screaming his frustration, taking them out on the only thing there that wouldn't hurt him in the process.

* * *

"My Lord, do you think the boy has taken the potion?" asked Grant, sitting himself down on a seat in the Dark Lord's study. It was dark, not because the curtains were closed but because the room itself was done in dark woods, and dark green colours. It worked well together, he certainly wouldn't have used those colours together but he had to admit it was a sight to see. It was much nicer than the other place he had, in the Muggle mansion. It was a genius move; the light side wouldn't think to look for him there. He had no idea of course that by birthright the mansion was actually his Lords.

"From his unwillingness to take it, I would assume not." stated Voldemort, the appearance of being unbothered by the events that had just transpired evident on his face. However, Voldemort was far from unbothered, but he wasn't about to let anyone in on that annoying fact. Even he remembered the potion; it was one of the first ones he'd ever taken the first night at Hogwarts. All children were required to take it, and it was stored in their files. Not only did it give them a past history of all injuries, treatments, illnesses, it also let them know what the children were allergic to. Purebloods or half-bloods raised in the Magical world didn't need to go through it since their records were automatically sent to Hogwarts when they are eleven. As far as he knew, Severus still insisted all his Slytherin's get the treatment, he wanted to make sure they were being looked after. Considering all the abuse the wizard had gone through, Voldemort didn't blame him.

"He's Muggle raised isn't he?" frowned Grant, quite frankly unsettled.

"He is," stated Voldemort, twitching as he remembered something Potter had said weeks ago. He didn't know why he hadn't remembered, but he was remembering a lot lately it's as if close proximity of his Horcruxes were helping him. 'Oh, please, like you're the only one who's had a shit childhood.' Could he be referring to the loss of his parents? Or were his assumptions right and the boy had been abused? It seemed inconceivable to him; the boy was too sickeningly light, sticking to Dumbledore like a loyal puppy. Then there's Dumbledore…would he really risk his saviour by allowing him to be abused by Muggles?

Grant swished and flicked his wand in a long complicated motion, before a scroll began to materialise in front of him. He expected it to be long, after all, the boy was fourteen years old, but it was much longer than anticipated. He'd seen patient's decades older with fewer results than this. Eventually his wand stopped producing the results and Grant could snatch it out of the air. Dark or not, the results on the paper enraged him beyond comprehension. Nobody not even Harry Potter deserved this! Yes the Dark Lord made examples of those who betrayed him but they were adults and had wilfully done it knowing the consequences. The boy had been a child, having children as he did, made the matter worse.

"Well?" demanded Voldemort, impatiently.

Grant quickly looked up at the Dark Lord, pausing briefly, aware that he could be cursed any minute. His Lord wasn't known for his patience; his hubris was that he wanted too much too soon. Of course he would never come out and tell him that. His mind drifted to what happened earlier. If it had been Death Eaters they would have been under that painful curse, he obviously had no desire to kill Harry Potter anymore. Why? And why had he wanted him to run a full diagnostic on him? Better yet, how would he react when he saw them? He obvious had his suspicions. Instead of saying anything, he handed over the scroll letting the results speak for themselves in all their grave certainty.

He knew when the Dark Lord had finally taken in the results; Grant barely dared to breathe as the room became unbearable hot with his anger. Merlin, thought Grant, would he be leaving here without being hurt? Shrinking back into his seat, pride be damned the wizard was fucking scary.

"FILTHY DISGUSTING MUGGLES!" spat Voldemort, his rage furthering exponentially. He would find a way around the wards of Privet Drive and he would kill the sons of a bitches! Nobody hurt a wizarding child and got away with it, and people wondered why he wanted Muggles put down like the filthy animals that they are? They didn't deserve to live; they were the ones that were depraved. Dumbledore had to have known, there was no doubt…which had him wondering if his precious order knew. If they were watching as closely as he'd been told, they probably did. Calming down, his red eyes still brighter than ever filled with raw hatred. Hopefully Lucius would be back with something he could use to get through to Potter. It oddly enough didn't fill him with malicious glee at the thought of breaking him, making him see nobody cared about him just the weapon that he was to them. Perhaps it was because he knew Potter had been through enough shit to last him a lifetime. Why should he care? As long as his Horcrux survived, yet he was beginning to see the boy, not the vessel…was that why? Was Dumbledore doing this to see how far he could push the boy not caring because his soul was inside him? No, that wasn't like the old fool, but he did often have others do his dirty work for him. How could the boy be so naïve? He'd seen right through Dumbledore from nearly the beginning!

"My Lord?" questioned Grant carefully, still remaining stiff and as far back in the chair as he could possibly get. Hoping to distract him from the Muggles and his fury. "Do you wish for me to repair the damage?" although getting the boy to drink them would apparently be the biggest challenge of his life.

"Yes," replied Voldemort, his answer immediate and stern. "List the potions, Severus will brew them." he trusted nobody else.

"As you wish, My Lord." said Grant, his voice still careful. "Will I add one to correct his sight or shall I see about getting him a pair of glasses more suitable?" the ones he had on were causing untold damage, they weren't the correct prescription and they were making his eyes worse. His eyesight wouldn't be as bad if he hadn't been wearing them, of that he knew from experience as a healer.

"Correct it," stated Voldemort flippantly, he didn't like weaknesses and glasses were one, if removed you would be blind, unable to see any assault coming your way. Grant would know better than to talk about anything they discussed, including the fact he was helping the boy. Yet it didn't matter, all his Death Eaters would soon become aware that the boy was to be untouched, anyone that did would die a horrible painful death.

"Yes, My Lord." replied Grant, eyes slightly wide. He had expected an outright refusal but just thought to cover all the bases like he always did. That potion was expensive, extremely difficult to make, not a problem for a Potions Master like Severus but nonetheless hard to brew. It's said to be even harder than the Wolfsbane potion, if he knew Severus he would be salivating over the challenge, he was immensely fond of brewing difficult concoctions. Especially if they were forbidden by the Ministry for being 'dark' which was basically anything that required blood. Dark and grey magic was dwindling, soon there would only be a handful of spells you would be allowed to cast, all very sickeningly 'light' in nature. Yes he was a healer, which actually made it worse, there were potions and spells deemed 'dark' that could save people and he was forbidden from using them. Although he had a more personal reason for joining the dark….after what that cowardly Muggle had done to his child.

"My Lord, if I may be so bold…why are you helping the boy? Do you not want him dead?" asked Grant, risking his wrath on the off chance he might get even a cryptic statement to think on.

"I despise every drop of magical blood spilled, you know this," said Voldemort, his ruby eyes regarding Grant cautiously. However, he wouldn't let the idiotic fools fighting for something they had no clue about bring him down either, so he killed when he had to.

Grant blinked at the wizard surprised, "You are going back to your original goals?" stiffening he had not meant to say that out loud.

"I never wavered from them." stated Voldemort, his voice mildly deceptive. Well that wasn't strictly true, he would never admit that, but he realized he would need to reassure his followers somehow. He would not, could not allow anyone else to betray him, he already had to deal with traitors in his midst. Karkaroff was one of them; he had all but imprisoned his followers himself. His end wouldn't be easy; he would be dealt with by the very people he had betrayed.

Grant dipped his head in respect and slightly apologetic for questioning him.

"You may go check on Barty," replied Voldemort, "You are free to go afterwards."

"Very well, My Lord." said Grant. "I shall leave the list with a House-Elf before I leave."

"Indeed," was all Voldemort said, waving his hand dismissing him silently.

* * *

Harry leaned against the wall of his cell, one foot raised and against the wall as well, displaying a casual stance of nonchalance as Voldemort stared at him. He would never admit that the stare was beginning to wear on him. It was as if he was waiting for something, or trying to confirm something he suspected. He was getting hungry again as well, he hadn't touched neither the breakfast or the lunch they'd sent down to him. He refused to be drugged again; he'd spent the afternoon trying to remove the band but had given up the futile task.

"What game are you playing at Voldemort?" asked Harry, his tone wary and tired. Not physically, since he'd had the best night sleep in three weeks, no it was a mental tiredness. Everything was all Topsy-turvy, nothing was as he expected it to be, and he really didn't like the mind games going on here. Nothing had happened after that potion had been spelled into his stomach, at least nothing he could feel as of yet but he wouldn't put it past them to have some sort of delayed affect just to fuck with him more.

"Would you believe me if I told you I'm not play?" replied Voldemort, his red eyes alight with amusement.

Harry merely snorted; they already both knew the answer to that question.

"Why do you follow Dumbledore? Doesn't it grate on your nerves how he adores his precious Muggles and believes they are more than the animals I insist they are?" sneered Voldemort, just mentioning Dumbledore caused him to lose control.

Harry narrowed his eyes, not liking where this was going at all, the bastard couldn't be trying to convert him to his side could he? No, there was no way, Voldemort wanted him dead…well he did, had, he wasn't sure anymore and he was beginning to think he was being played big time. Why on earth would he think bringing Muggles up would help that matter? Unless…Harry gulped - loudly, he suspected…no that was impossible nobody knew. Arching an eyebrow in Voldemort's direction he answered "Why would it?" despite the fact his heart was hammering in his chest.

"I know everything." stated Voldemort, his tone calm and truthful, he could feel what Potter was feeling at the moment embarrassment and fear. He'd never felt any fear up until this moment…so he knew it wasn't aimed at him, but at what he knew. Interesting, why would that bother the boy so much? "The question is why do you follow Dumbledore around like a love sick puppy?" the sneer was back again, he couldn't have helped it even if he tried.

Harry dropped every pretence and a vindictive smirk spread across his face, "Who says I do?"

* * *

There we go :) so how quickly will Voldemort's attraction start :D after all he's gone a long, long time without any interaction whatsoever! will he change just to gain Harry's attention or will he do it solely to get everyone's trust back, to see that he had changed? or perhaps a bit of both? it seems everyone wants Harry to stay in the manor although there is some wanting him to go to Hogwarts BUT Voldemort wouldn't be going - he would make sure that his spies within Hogwarts were keeping an eye out. Severus, the Slytherins and maybe a few others :P how would the Slytherins react in this if Umbridge dared to attack someone Voldemort insisted was off limits? they protect their own after all and if Voldemort said harry was one of their own...R&R Please


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